A parent would say to the pains of his/her child, "Why wasn't it I Lord, to bear my child's pain?"
But it has to be so.
In the Bible, the "Binding of Isaac," called "Olah," in Hebrew, narrates the story when God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac on Mount Moriah.
Abraham set to obey God's command to offer his son as sacrifice without questioning. As soon as Isaac was bound to the Altar, a voice was heard in the last minute: "Now I know you fear God." Then God allowed a ram to be caught and become the sacrifice (in place of Isaac).
Why are we in pain as we watch a sick person struggle for comfort?
Why do we feel mercy when we see the poor helpless? Empathizing, when we couldn't lift the oppressed, and no one would listen?
Why? The unfathomable "why's" of life scrape off our skin slowly, when we couldn't do anything but stare at hurling bullets.
But is has to be so.
Each one faces a destiny of his own, different from the others, as unique as our endowed crowns of life. Is there something more agonizing than a crown of thorns, undeserved? We take of the cup, sweet wine of grapes, a nourishment for our hearts to carry the burden we could have.
It has to be so.
How could we lessen the pain of a loved one, the special people closest to us, and the world around us? Perhaps, we could try to act bravely, as big as the heroes. We could move on, when others stop. We could stand the highest, when others fall. It will be unfair for those hurting, if we couldn't be stronger than their pain and their hurts.
If my father died from a bullet, it would be unfair for me to hunt and kill the murderer. Justice must be sought. And if justice, a sigh, comes far in this time, there would be signs of abundance of grace and kindness nigh, for those we love, bring peace and love, above all.
We couldn't cry and rip a vein for others. We couldn't be in Gaza, or Haiti, or suffer in place of another; and that is why it hurts. It hurts badly.
But it has to be so.
And when the mountains on our backs come unbearable, we are knocked down praying to the ground listening to the cracks of the earth.
Like Maria, during the execution of her Son in Golgotha.
"God, help us bear each other's pain and hurt,
in the prayers You have breathed in our mouths,
in the prayers You have nested in our hearts,
in the charm of love we could share,
big or small in pretty boxes, a grip of power from your hands.
We grieve because we love (rosevoc2)."
It hurts badly, as painful as when someone leaves. It hurts badly, as painful as when someone dies. Jesus, carry all our pain and hurts, we trust in Thee.
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