Orphaned yet not Abandoned: A Call to do Mercy
There has never been a day in my 23 years of faith when I felt more like an orphan than today. When my father told me to move out of our house in 2006, I gladly did. I had Christian friends to help me. When I was all alone, starting a new fellowship despite opposition from both Christian and Hindu groups, I still had confidence in my friends and the Lord. God used me to do that work for ten years. When I was studying at SAIACS, I felt more accepted than anywhere else and did well in my M.Div. After Ruth left in 2020, I managed everything on my own. Still, papa, mummy, and my younger brother kept supporting and helping me. I had some friends and mentors whom I could seek help from whenever I needed. Even my uncles supported my clinical practice. Still, my innermost desire was to serve the Lord. So, I kept studying. When I got admission to a PhD program, I was delighted. But I did not anticipate visa delays (I am still praying for the visa to come through). I joined M.Th. (NT) again, the same course I had to quit in 2020. The year started well with an excellent module on Research and Writing skills.
However, this month brought unforeseen circumstances, and now there seems to be no one to help. No one whom I can trust wholeheartedly. Papa cannot help. He wanted me to succeed, but in a different way. The people I trusted seem to have misunderstood me. I am relying on God’s promises, but feel terribly alone. A loneliness that I always feared –a sense of being an orphan despite having everyone. It is not a psychological problem. It is like there is nobody who seems to understand my perspective or situation –Christians or Hindus. I generally respect people much more than I see others do. I also value their suggestions, but there are times when there is so much misunderstanding in the air that you dare not speak for yourself lest you get into trouble. With this in mind, when I reflect on the cross of Christ, when God’s beloved Son felt like an orphan, I fail to fathom the depth of that forsakenness.
Imagine, one day you are sitting right next to the President of America as his right-hand man. And, in a matter of days, some American rebel authorities capture you and harass you publicly to incinerate you. You can see patriotic soldiers and just judges standing before you, helpless and, perhaps, clueless, even as the angry mob and murderers gather around to get you killed. They feel it is a just cause, a just war. They are all united and challenge you to get help from your President or his forces. You know that if you click that built-in button placed somewhere in your mouth, 12 legions of the finest American soldiers would come to your aid and rescue you. Still, you choose to stay silent, even as the President watches you perish bit by bit. Is he helpless? Cannot he rescue you? Is it too hard for him? Questions linger in your own heart about the President’s commitment towards you as you say goodbye to the evil world.
You keep hanging on to the faithful promises of your President and fight for a higher cause: the cause to win the rebels over with love. You want to win. You want to conquer rebel hearts and help them know your President’s heart for them. However, you cannot use their weapons– hatred and violence. Your weapon is love and prayer. Love is hard work, and it usually works more slowly than violence. It is sacrificially messy all the way. Love needs time and space to grow and convince the beloved of its truth. At times, loved ones get the exact opposite impression. But love does not vanish or hide for long, nor does it demand sacrifices from the beloved. It seeks the ultimate good of the other, even if it sometimes feels irreparably hurt. Holding on requires patience and commitment. Jesus held his nerve. He did not give in to the temptations to display his might or come down from the cross. If he did it, the cross would void all its power. The power that it now wields – the powerless power of justice and love that made the Roman Centurion –the highest authority on the ground that day– notice God’s wrath, kneel, and admit. “Surely, he is a son of God (Mark 15:39).”
On that day, the powerless power of love faced and conquered ultimate injustice, hatred, and death fearlessly, yet non-violently. Love conquered hate, justice engulfed injustice, and life devoured death. Thus, Jesus turned the cross of loneliness and forsakenness into an icon of unity and love. In Him, Jesus united Jew-Gentile, Male-Female, Literate–Illiterate, Hygienic and the Unhygienic, Old and New Humanity in one body. He united the old and new humanity so that those of the older order could partake in the new human nature. Even Adam might wonder how his death –physical– could be reversed by a 33-year-old carpenter who died on a cross to raise him (Adam) in Him. The love that dies seems ridiculous until it rises to raise its beloved with him. Perhaps Jesus did not feel loved as he was hanging on the cross, just as I do not feel loved as of now. Even so, Jesus knew his father was watching from above, even though it seemed that his father had forsaken him (Israel and humanity). God will rescue Jesus and through him Israel and Humanity from sin and curse, and its results: death and decay.[1] “His bones will not see decay (Psalm 16:10; Acts 2:27).” He rose again the third day, killing death itself, in the process, forever.
Now, death will not have the final say (1 Cor 15:55). Jesus has conquered the grave. Death is no longer the leveler; the resurrection is, when God will set all things right in the coming age.[2] Jesus and his resurrection are here to reign not only in this age, but also in the coming one when he will renew all things in him. The creation will be set free from its bondage to death and decay. It will no longer groan when God reveals his children in his glory in the coming age (Rom 8:18-23). The birth of the new humanity required the old humanity to die and pass away. In Jesus’ one body, God accomplished both the death of old human nature and the birth of a new humanity that yields to his will and his spirit (Rom 7:4-6; 8:1-14). We are those humans created in God-likeness to display his nature –love– by doing acts of mercy and justice. Jesus summed up the Torah in one phrase when he told the Lawyer, who questioned him regarding the greatest commands, to go and do likewise, that is, to “do mercy” as the Good Samaritan did to his dying Jewish neighbour (Luke 10:36-37). For us, it is the greatest virtue, as James sums up, “Mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:12-13).
But what does it mean for us, especially as seminary students or those preparing for ministry, to "do mercy" in our daily lives? It can be as simple as listening with patience to a classmate who is struggling or checking in on someone who sits alone in the cafeteria. Reaching out to pray with a fellow student who has lost a loved one, organizing a group to visit local orphanages, or tutoring children from under-resourced backgrounds are concrete ways to embody Christ’s mercy. In ministry, it might mean volunteering time to counsel those wrestling with doubt, advocating for those marginalized in our churches, or even mediating peaceful dialogue amid conflict. Sometimes, choosing to forgive small grievances, showing hospitality to a stranger, or even carrying an extra meal to share with someone nearby who is hungry reflects the heart of mercy Jesus calls us to. As for me, I believe even as I feel orphaned, my purpose is to do mercy to those who feel abandoned by their people or society.
Comments
Post a Comment