God’s “Life-Grip”

The Fifth Sunday of Lent

Today’s Readings: Jer. 31:31-34; Ps. 51; Heb. 5:7-9; Jn. 12:20-33


About twenty years ago, Northwest Airlines Flight 225 crashed right after it took off from Detroit Metro Airport. Of the 156 people onboard, 155 were killed. There was one survivor: a four-year-old girl from Tempe, Arizona, named Cecilia.

The news reported that when rescuers found Cecilia, they didn’t believe she had really been on the plane. Investigators first assumed that the little girl was a passenger in one of the cars on the highway where the airliner crashed. But when they checked the passenger manifest for the flight, sure enough, there was Cecilia’s name.

How was it that this one child survived?

As best as Cecilia was able to tell the story, it appears that her mother, Paula, took action as soon as she realized that the plane was going down. Paula unbuckled her own seat belt, got down on her knees in front of her daughter, wrapped her arms and body around Cecilia, and then would not let her go. She just held on tight to the very end.

Nothing could separate that child from her mother’s love—neither tragedy nor disaster, neither the fall nor the flames that followed, neither height nor depth, neither life nor death.

Picture this vivid scene and imprint it onto your brain, because this is precisely the love our Savior has for us. Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, left heaven, lowered himself to us, and covered us with the sacrifice of his own body to save us. As our Lord says in today’s gospel, “It was for this purpose that I came to this hour” (John 12:27).

It’s easy to take the cross for granted. We’ve got a beautiful, hand-carved wooden cross over our high altar—a gift many years ago from the Durelle van Alstyne family. You’ve probably got a crucifix—maybe several—hanging in your home. Maybe another at the end of your Rosary beads. Perhaps one hanging around your neck right this very minute.

If you gave it a thought, you might ask a very honest and penetrating question: really, what does the cross have to do with me? Isn’t it just ancient history? Maybe it stirs up my heart once in a while, but I basically go about my life without thinking about Jesus except very remotely.

I wonder what little Cecilia was thinking while her mother was wrapped around her. “Mommy, you’re hurting me. Why are you squeezing me so tight? Ow! You’re pulling my hair.” All the silly little things you’d expect a 4-year-old to feel and say. She never for a second understood that her mother was making the ultimate sacrifice for her out of a love so powerful and profound that it is beyond words.

That God-Man we see nailed to the cross did—and still does—the same for you and me. His suffering and death paid the terrible price for our sins. Thanks to him—and only because of him—do we stand a chance of being admitted to heaven one day.

But in our humanity and weakness, we frequently don’t see past the hurts and indignities we have to endure every day. Sometimes, we even lift our voices to God to whine and complain: “How can you do this to me, Lord? God, why don’t you help me? If you’re really there and love me, do something about this!” Just like a kid—a somewhat spoiled, or at least a pretty sheltered, kid.

In our blindness and fragile faith, we just don’t see that God purposely has his arms wrapped tightly around us—watching over us, protecting us, standing guard over us, loving us, nudging us towards heaven. Hear Christ’s breathtaking words today: “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself” (John 12:32). That’s you he’s speaking about!

The prophet Jeremiah tells us that God’s law is within us, written upon our hearts (Jer 31:33): he is our God, and we are his people. If we are truly to experience God’s peace and blessings in life, we’ve got to admit that he’s the boss and abandon ourselves into his hands. And that means, of course, that things in life don’t always play out as we might expect.

There’s a fable about three young trees growing side by side in a forest. One dreamt of being part of a magnificent home, where people could admire the beautiful color and grain of his wood. The second dreamt of becoming the tall mast of an elegant sailing vessel that traveled the seven seas. The third hoped to be part of a great tower. Eventually, the trees grew to maturity and were cut down. The first didn’t become part of a luxurious home; instead, some of its wood was fashioned into a simple manger, a wooden trough to hold the hay that animals ate. The second tree didn’t become a mast for a sailboat; instead, it became the sides of an ordinary fishing boat, like many on the Sea of Galilee. And the third didn’t become part of a tall tower as it had dreamed; instead, it was fashioned into the beams of a cross and used for a crucifixion. The moral is that when we leave ourselves trustingly in God’s hands, rerouted dreams can find glory even in unexpected places. That’s the power of God’s love for us.

As we enter upon the home stretch of Lent, now is an excellent time to take stock of our relationship with Jesus Christ. The law written on our hearts says that we are totally and absolutely dependent upon him—and that we can totally and absolutely depend upon him. All he asks in return is that we do our best to amend our lives and follow God’s teachings and wisdom—not because he wants to straitjacket our freedom, but because he’s holding unto to us with a love that’s so tight that it never lets go… not a death-grip, but a life-grip.

Don’t leave church today without whispering a prayer of gratitude and a pledge of recommitment to your loving Savior… your very best and most devoted Friend. Amen.