God Met Me in a Chevy Equinox

Have you ever had a conversation with someone the day before they died? Did they know it was your last conversation? Did you? My answers are Yes, Yes, and Sort Of...

The Women's Ministry at my church has been studying the "I Am" statements of Jesus. As the study progresses, it gets closer and closer to Jesus' temporary demise. A woman from our teaching team was tasked with explaining John 14:6 where Jesus says, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." As she spoke, she described Jesus as accessible in his humanness in a way that is often difficult to imagine. At the time, Jesus was at a dinner table with his disciples. Not only were they students, but some had become close friends. He was pleading with them to understand all of the events they had experienced and ones that he had foretold. The clock was closing in on his time on Earth. I've always read this with a little bit of haughty distain for how dense the disciples seemed to be at this supper. This time, it hit me like a ton of bricks. If it were in the movies, it would have had the Vertigo effect. I got it! I was them!

One Summer day, my Father had come to visit. He brought my brother and I some trinkets from his home. We looked them over and delighted in them. He didn't come to visit often and even less often spent intentional quality time with us, so we were fully enamored. He gave us hugs and was explaining to us that no matter what, we would be a trinty. He, my brother and myself. The three of us. No matter what, we were a family. Nothing could change that. He was trying desperately to get his will imprinted on us. He repeated it with passion and insistence. He pleaded with us to understand how deep our love and family bond could take us. I remember his gestures, his tone and his posture. I knew it was important, but I didn't know why. Of course my brother and I were in agreement. We also exchanged somewhat uncomfotable glances at each other because our dad was speaking in such earnestness. He expressed his love for us over and over, begging us to remember that. Cue more shifting in our seats and sideways glances, but nodding to ensure we understood. Something felt "off." So, we tried to distract away from the conversation with random topics to diffuse the tension.

When my friend was explaining how Thomas and Philip were asking Jesus questions that were totally missing the point, I felt my chest get heavy. It was the first time I realized that they had a similar experience as the preteen me. They knew something was "off" with their Rabbi. They felt the tension. They even heard him explain what was to happen, but they were hoping, perhaps, that it was another parable or carried more symbolism than realism. They wanted more clarity. Their hearts were troubled and they were reacting in a way almost as if to delay the inevitable. I felt a nervousness for them that I hadn't picked up on before. We had carpooled to the meeting where my friend shared her message that day. Tears flooded my face when we left as God Met Me in that red Chevy Equinox chauffered by a gifted teacher and friend. On our way home, I couldn't pin point exactly who I was crying for or why. Was it the desperate petitioning of Jesus and/or my father who knew they would be gone for their loved ones to remember them? Was it for the nervousness of the disciples? Was it for little Andrea that knew, but didn't really know? Was it compassion for all parties?

The last two weekends, I have taken my children to see The Chosen: Last Supper (Part 1 and Part 2). It is, as the title suggests, the seder meal for Passover. Each episode starts with some of the conversation Jesus had with his disciples. Having studied this event the week before and recognizing the connection with the situation those 13 men found themselves in, my soul felt raw. When I saw Thomas and Philip ask those questions, I felt deep compassion where I once would have scoffed. Jonathan Roumie plays Jesus. The look on his face when his students were not getting it broke my heart in a new way. The little things they were distracted by must have been so frustrating for Jesus. He was in the home stretch of getting through to them all that they needed to know. In no way am I comparing my father to Jesus, but I think that's probably how my father must have felt when we were trying to distract from the serious conversations.

Then, in The Chosen: Last Supper, they performed the Dayenu. It is a tradition, as far as I am aware, that the Jews sing at the Passover Seder. Each verse describes a blessing/miracle from God and they say "Dayenu," meaning "that would be enough." For example, "If God had not carried us out from Egypt, and had not carried out judgements against them Dayenu, it would have been enough." God Met Me again in that moment in the theatre. Without ever knowing the tradition of Dayenu, I realized I had done that on that fateful day in August. After my father had given us our trinkets and the speech, he gave us hugs as he apologized for not being able to give us more. "It's okay," I said, "as long as you give me a hug every day for the rest of my life, that's enough." He loosened his grip. "What?" he asked. I realized that he was a couple of decades older and I may outlive him, so I changed my answer. "As long as I get a hug for you everyday until the end of one of our lives, that'll be enough." If he had nothing else to give, a hug was enough. He tightened his grip again before kissing me on the head and said goodbye. He mounted his motorcycle and I watched out the window as he rode away. I couldn't peel myself from the glass. I literally pressed my face to the pane until I couldn't hear the roar of the motor anymore. My heart was troubled. I knew something was wrong. I thought to myself, 'that would be the last time I see him.' Then I thought, 'I'm 12! What do I know!' and betrayed in my head what my heart knew to be true. It was that evening he took his life. He thought the world would be better without him. He was 33.

Jesus didn't take his own life. He voluntarily sacrificed it, not because we'd be better off without Him, but so we could be redeemed because of him! He knew it was coming. He knew his time was limited. He wanted desperately for his friends students, and the world to remember the He was the WAY, He was the TRUTH and He was the LIFE!!

Jesus had earnestness. His disciples had nervousness.

I write this as a cautionary tale to not be too judgmental with the disciples (as I had been) as you're reading this story in the days leading to Easter. Jesus was speaking plainly at this point, but they just didn't see how clear it actually was. Maybe they weren't as thick headed as we've thought. Maybe their nervousness and the stress of the occasion clouded their minds. Maybe they knew, but didn't want to admit that they knew. As someone who knew, but didn't know, I ponder: maybe, just maybe they thought if they denied it or asked enough dumb questions, Jesus wouldn't leave them if he saw they weren't ready.

If you're stuck in a state of worry and fear in your current situation, please remember that the God of the universe knows you by name. He loves you so much that He sent His son to be the eternal sacrifice in order that we may be reconciled to Him. We are grafted into His family as His children!! Even if our parents leave us, or spouses, or friends, God remains steadfast with arms ready to hold you. He will never leave you or forsake you! He is the WAY, the TRUTH, and the LIFE!! He is enough. It is finished.

John 14:6 ESV

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.