Good Friday, April 3: Capacious

Capacious

 have a strange tale. A few weeks ago, I had a dream. A real actual night dream. In the dream, Jesus talked to me. He said, “For your Good Friday sermon this year. I don’t want you to tell people that I died for their sins. Instead, tell them that I died for capacious of their lives.” Then he wrote out the word for me. [show on screen] I am not making this up. 

I woke up. Now I’ve never heard of that word before. I had no idea what the word meant. Actually, I wasn’t even sure it was a word, so I looked it up. It is a word [show it on screen] It means “capable of containing or holding much; spacious; roomy. Comprehensive.” Ugh? So, in my good prayer tradition, I had a dialogue with Jesus in my journal.

In our dialogue, Jesus said to tell all of you (and me) that he died on the cross for the entirety of our lives, not just the sins. Meaning, he died in a capacious manner, which is with a spaciousness, a roominess for the total mess and blessing we are. 

His roominess holds not just our sins but our grief, our confusion, our disappointments, our regrets. He holds the things that happened to us that we did not choose. The wounds we still don’t know how to name.

Think of Jesus on the cross with his arms extended out. In one of the Eucharistic Prayers, it says Jesus’ arms were stretched between heaven and earth. I like that. There is a kind of “capaciousness” even in the posture of Christ. Nothing held back. Nothing excluded.

He does not say, “Bring me only your sins.” He says, “Bring me your whole life.”

Bring me the parts you are ashamed of.
Bring me the parts you are proud of.
Bring me the parts you understand.
Bring me the parts you don’t.

Bring me your faith—and bring me your doubt.

Because what we see on the Cross is not just forgiveness. We see hospitality. Divine hospitality. A God who makes room. This is why the Passion is so raw, so human. Jesus does not float above any of our feelings. He enters into them completely: abandonment, betrayal, fear, physical pain. Even his cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” can become our own cry.  

When Jesus says—“I died for the capaciousness of your life” he is saying:

There is nothing in you that I cannot hold.
There is nothing in your life that I do not desire to enter.
There is nothing about you that falls outside my love.

The Cross is spacious enough for all of it, all of you.

Many of us come here carrying things we think we have to manage on our own. We bring our sins to God—but we keep our sorrow to ourselves. We confess what we’ve done wrong—but we hide what has broken us. And Jesus says, “No. All of it belongs here.” Bring it all to the foot of the Cross.