Jesus understood that in order for a new way to emerge, the old paradigm had to be dismantled.
Something—Someone—must die in order forsomething new to be born.
Jesus had to die in order for new life to come.
As he lived his final days, Jesus experienced the vulnerability of grief
that anyone would as he said goodbye to his friends around a table of bread and wine.
He felt the vulnerability of loneliness as he sat in a dark
garden crying out to his Father who seemed so far away.
He felt the vulnerability of rejection when his close friend Peter turned his back on him.
He felt the vulnerability of insecurity as Pilate sentenced him to death,
and then as he was beaten and mocked by soldiers who didn’t even know him.
He carried the vulnerability of fear as he stumbled towards the hill on which he’d die hanging naked on a cross.
He felt all the vulnerability of loss as he watched his mother moan in grief for her dying son.
Yes, Jesus knew everything about vulnerability as he gasped and struggled
for his last breath, knowing in those moments he was taking all of our sins to his own grave.
The Kingdom had finally come—and it came because Jesus himself
surrendered to the great dare and embraced the vulnerability of God’s transformative work.
Over and over again, Jesus put down the bundle of control
and faced the vulnerability that came with it.
He did it because he knew full alignment with his Father meant full freedom.
As we surrender ourselves to what feels like the wilderness, full of vulnerability and the unknown, we can be encouraged by the profound reality that Jesus never asks us to do something he hasn’t already done himself.
Experiencing vulnerability is organic to the process of being recreated and reformed.
God is changing us out of his great love for us.
I say we take the risk and jump; even when we are afraid.
(taken from Life’s Great Dare, pages 69,70)