In Memoriam

"But all we are was created by Him."

A MAN made his first dive in a cave, and the weather turned, and the cave filled, trapping them for hours. He only lived through it because he was with experienced divers who protected him and, after he collapsed, got him out.

The story doesn’t end there.

Because that man went back. Same cave. With the same people. He said he woujdn’t let fear of what he’d been through keep him trapped in it.

An IDF soldier captured by Hamas (word means “violent” in Hebrew) was dragged below ground to dig miles of tunnels. Living by little light and barely fed, he was forever exhausted and, years later, saw no way out. One day, his captors took him to a location beneath a particular house and gave him a bomb to tote to the surface. He obeyed, not knowing what their plans were and came face-to-face with them when he returned.

“That house is for IDF soldiers like you,” one of his captors explained. “We’re going to make you pull the trigger.”

Where fear would have captured some, he never batted an eye. “Then go ahead and kill me because I won’t do it.” He is alive today, obviously, since he told the story. And he isn’t afraid.

In another war, preceding this one, an American soldier found himself captured by Germany. Seated, bound, they barraged him with hatred to get him to tell them even one small fact about where American troops were. He replied with his name and title and refused to give anything else. Angered, they beat him. He wouldn’t flinch. And was sent out to sit with others in the cold. He said, of that moment, for he would be a long time in custody, primarily in the winter season in Russia, that he found out afterward, if he’d leaked even one tiny detail, he would have been beaten much worse. For one detail meant he could be forced to give up others.

This isn’t about soldiers, though they are honored by me here. This isn’t about America the Brave or the beauty of Israel. I see both in the people daily. But in another story, a group of Jews, faced the horrors of violence at the hands of cruel men, who’d taken them into the forest to kill them. Standing there, told to dig their graves, they chose to worship, to turn to God. It was Shabbat. Their captors’ violent reaction, with further threats of death, didn’t change the Jews at all. But in the hatred they faced, I saw an image, which will never leave.

Fear cripples many. It crippled me for a time. I’ve faced great oppression since then, and staring in the eyes of death, found courage I didn’t know was in me.

I’m not the image I saw. Who I saw was the Savior, dressed in a robe, crowned with thorns, being mocked and spat on (Matthew 27:28). Smacked in the face, flogged and beaten. The violence was the same, the fear, there staring back. But there is a point where you know its presence and aren’t afraid at all. Some say it’s the human spirit, meaning fervor and not the spirit man, as the Word of God defines it. But all we are was created by Him. And He knew of it, knew what He’d chosen to suffer, and despite the horror and the pain, did it anyway.

Would any of these people in these stories relive them? I doubt it. Then again, there’s no undoing history, no erasing it. We can tear down monuments and relabel them, but they existed and people stood them there. We can reinterpret literature, misuse the Bible, but it only means what God intended. And when He wrote “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16),” death was in front of Him, and He knew it. Although He’d given up all His foreknowledge to be born human and so relied on the Spirit completely.

We’ve placed Him beneath the devil in His death, a wrong image, and said that was the Father’s will. You don’t know Him like He wants you to, that you see it so incorrectly. Jesus said to Pilate, “My Father can send 12 legions of angels to defend me (Matthew 26:53),” then He walked the Via Dolorosa to Calvary, suffered and died there.

The plan of God for Him included great pain and death.

We fuss about so many things we don’t want to deal with. Daily things. We pause to consider those like in these stories who stood for something better whatever it cost. And we should. Every day should be in memoriam. But God Himself listened to the men He’d made curse Him. He felt the lash of their anger, was bruised to the point of disfigurement. Isaiah 52:14 says He didn’t even look human. And with His last breath, He forgave a thief rightfully convicted, who suffered with Him there (Luke 23:43).

The difference was Jesus was sinless, and Satan had nothing in Him (John 14:30), so He couldn’t die until He commended His spirit to God (John 10:18). You heard me. Death had no hold on Him. He died anyway. And three days later was recreated so well, made so alive and new, that his own followers didn’t know Him. In Emmaus, it wasn’t until He broke bread, yet they’d talked with Him for miles (Luke 24:30). In the garden, by the tomb, He had to call Mary’s name. She thought He was the gardener (John 20:15).

You do not know what you will look like under pressure until you’ve stood there, and then, you can’t explain it to others. There’s no way for them to understand your point-of-view. For my part, I’m glad of that. I would have no one live through what I did. Jesus says the same. For this reason, He died, so that we could have life eternal, every minute of every day blessed with peace and health and a strong mind. He sent us His Spirit to teach us and strengthen us, and He connects us to the Father. Life is supposed to be goodness and mercy following us every single day (Psalm 23:6). Then when it isn’t, instead of calling out questions, we lean upon Him and know, He gets us. He is one of us. He’s been there.

Photo by Liv Bruce on Unsplash


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Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com