When you have to pee or are hungry or need to sleep or are sick.
A strong mind can push it off and control the body for a bit, but in the end, biology usually wins.
I remember when I was in the thick of labor with my first son. I had a prolonged early labor and hadn't slept for more than 24 hours. I was dehydrated and floating in the birthing pool completely overwhelmed by pain.
My precious husband, bless him, had no idea what he was doing. He leaned over the water and whispered something about how Jesus suffered on the cross.
I had no space to process that.
I was zoned in trying to make it to the next breath. Anguished over whether I should get an epidural, which was still an option at that point and completely terrified by how much of a hill I still needed to climb.
Life arrives in a fury.
Eventually long after Eddie was born and we were snuggled in for a late night nursing session did I even remember what Ulrich had said. My higher brain present, I was able to process and put the things together. In the moment, biology was driving and my brain was not accessible.
I imagine, in death, we may find ourselves in a similar place.
And as I read the story of the passion I think of Jesus in his humanity reaching that point where biology takes over. That is what lends such strength to his final words. They were not a sermon or well thought out coherent statements but the deepest truth of his being coming forth in those lucid moments as consciousness begins to fail.
"Forgive them, they know not what they do. "
"Today, I say to you, you will be with me in paradise. "
"Mother, this is your son. Son this is your mother. "
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
"I thirst. "
"It is finished."
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. "
These 7 phrases reveal the essence and mystery of Jesus. The parts of himself so deeply written that he could access them when biology was screaming it's loudest.
As one who follows Jesus, who has heard these words year after year I feel like I have some thoughts on this but I find them hard to put into words and perhaps presumptuous.
But, when I place them aside his command to love others as he has loved us I find the command to deepen.
It is to carve the way of love and a trust in God's goodness so deeply into my soul that it is automatic. That it is my instinct even as I am dying. Even when biology has taken over.
I am not there. I do not love well when I am tired, sick and hungry. I do not automatically fall into rhythm and stance of love without first accessing my higher brain. Except... with my kids. Motherhood teaches me what automatic love might look like. I can confort a child without waking up. I can push myself past my normal tolerance of pain, exhaustion, hunger or other afflictions for the sake of my littles.
And love in motherhood has come to me by way of practice. I have practiced loving these little people over the span of years until it has been etched in places that are automatic, even deeper than habit.
So my call is to build on this tiny kernel and broaden this love to my spouse, my parents, my siblings, my neighbors, people at church, people at work, people who cross my path, people who harm me.
Like that beautiful Haitian pastor that I wrote about earlier, Jesus has gone. He has left the work of carrying his light to us. As I reflect on how loving he was even in suffering and death I hold the gravity of what it means to be a light bearer.
Christ have mercy.
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