Have You Ever Had Your Hand Slammed in a Door?

As the day was ending Wednesday, I had to place something into our classroom closet. Our kindergartners were beginning their 20 minute process of putting snow gear on for their trip home. As I shut the closet door I heard possibly the most horrific sound I've ever heard (that's pretty bad considering how I spent three years a midst 170+ special needs students). Two little fingers, belonging to the kindest student of our room, had found their way into the side of the closet and they were trapped and pinched tight. I think I would have responded better to bullets whizzing past my face as I saw the girl's face and heard her shrieks. 

My mentor teacher quickly took her to the sink and began running cold water over her fingers. I felt so horrible. I was so mad at myself for bringing such pain to someone so delicate. Standing there, just staring, a few five-year-old sages, and sagettes (not a word yet?), told me that it was o.k. because, "My dad slammed my hand in the car door" and "my mom shut my fingers in the closet once". Wow. I am standing there like some moron-student-teacher and compassion hits me in the face like a snowball that melts the soul. And I melted, like a son who is accepted by a father after he blows a basketball game with a senseless foul. 

So, this experience got me thinking not only of compassion, but of the pain in our Heavenly Father's seeing His Son suffer and die. It must have been so intense. And for Mary and all the others who witnessed it. It must have rotted the stomach, turning it around and leaving it feeling as if a box of pins were swallowed. If they could even put words to it, it might have been summarized thus: Something absolutely horrible and wretched is happening. Yet, Something absolutely beautiful and redemptive was blossoming in the midst of this, through God made man. 

And here I am. A finger crusher. And I crush God's fingers and see a different face. It's not the face writhing in agony, as it must have. It is the face of the Father who loves his son in spite of his failure. The face stares at me through the Gospel and those who share it with me. Even the ones whose fingers I have crushed. An ocean of grace hits me with joy, leaving me floating with purpose, gratitude, and hope. May God's grace fill you likewise.