Not Really god, where are you?

…as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. Psalm 103:12 This is the season of Lent in liturgical churches. It is the name given to the days that lead up to Easter and for those of us raised with liturgical teachings it calls to us to be introspective, to look at life from the perspective of the sacrifice of the Cross of Christ. With that in mind my attention was caught by lyrics to a song I’ve heard many times over the last couple of years. It references the verse above. The singer asks Jesus to show him the distance from the east to the west and comes to the conclusion that the distance is from “one scarred hand to the other.” Many times I have sung that song and been impressed by it, but not in the breathtaking way that I was earlier today. Today when I heard those words my first reaction was to lift my own hands in praise. When I did I saw them, scar free. There are no marks left from implements of torture on my skin. And how can that be? I am after all the one, or one of the ones, who deserves them. No, those scars, those sacred scars, mar the hands of the only perfect individual ever to grace this earth. It shook me to see it that way. How dare I toss a casual hurtful remark toward, or about another of God’s creatures? Whether we know it or not, accept it or not, each of us, every human being, was created by God. Therefore no matter who is the recipient of my verbal arrow I’ve pierced the heart of God. What’s worse is that I, personally, have done a lot worse things than make nasty remarks. This is not the arena for a list of my sins but I know they exist and/or existed. See, some of them don’t exist anymore. They are flung as far as the east is from the west. Remember now, it was not my hands that cast them away. It was not my blood that flowed to pay the price. I have experienced some consequences that I can relate directly to sin and I’m sure there are others that are more subtle. Still, the ultimate price was paid by one who should never have had to pay at all. The idea that my hands bear no scars stayed with me throughout the day. How is that possible? It shouldn’t be. It isn’t fair, a term we humans just love to use. As I used my hands today to hold the hands of the children with whom I work, to brush the hair from the eyes of one precious boy, to hug my granddaughters, to clean my house, make my dinner, write a note to a friend and many other tasks, I couldn’t help but see them differently. They are scar free! Why? For the answer to that see John 3:16 and put my name in the place of the word “world.” Better yet put your own name there and then take a look at your hands. The distance from the east to the west, from our past sins to our present lives, is the distance from one scarred hand to the other.