Earlier I was in someone's room talking to her and some other girls. Another girl came in and asked if anyone wanted to go to the Christian bookstore with her.
"I do," I said.
"Well, I am in a hurry because I have a senate meeting in a few minutes," she said.
I didn't say anything else for a while. She turned right around and asked if anyone else wanted to go. They said no, and she left.
After a few minutes, I said, "Maybe this is stupid, but I'm upset about that."
"That made me mad," K said, "and I hope she could tell."
I left after that because my phone was ringing. I talked for a few minutes. Then I sat down to think about all this. Suddenly the thought hit me. She hoped she noticed?! If it had really made her mad, and if she was a friend, I would think she would have done something. I didn't do anything because I didn't think I was worth doing anything for, but I would have done it for anyone else.
Now I think that maybe K had her reasons for not doing anything. Maybe I wasn't that important to her, or maybe she didn't know how to do anything. Whatever they were, they are not important.
Then I thought about this musical Gloria wrote called "In the Garden". She played part of it for us today. She told us all about writing it on Monday. "If I hear another sermon about the nails in His hands," she said, "I'll die. That wasn't what killed Him. What killed Him was the cup in Gethsemane." She reminded us that when Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane He prayed, "Father, if it is possible, remove this cup from me. But not my will but yours be done." The cup was full of all our sin and all our pain, and Jesus saw that in Gethsemane. "He had a human body," Gloria said, "but he had God's mind. His body couldn't handle that, and the Bible says that blood poured out of his forehead like drops of sweat."
Then she played us the tape of that part of the musical. In the musical she narrates how He had to become Hitler while also becoming the millions of Jews dying in the gas chambers, how He had to become every soldier fighting for his country and every child who waits terrified for his alcoholic parents to come home. After He had prayed and was already bleeding, He turned for the support of His friends, the three disciples who were supposed to be watching with Him. But they were sleeping.
Now I understand. He did become the girl who went to the bookstore, and He did become K. That is easy for me to believe. But He also became me. He felt MY pain. That is not so easy to believe. He felt it so deeply that it killed Him. That is the greatest miracle He ever did.