welcome to good friday
In January of 2023, I sat anxiously in the doctor’s office waiting for news about the abnormal blood results I received earlier that week. “You have hereditary hemochromatosis,” the doctor said. “It’s no big deal. All you have to do is donate blood regularly to clear the excess iron from your body. It’s easy.” Her seemingly light words landed on my chest like bricks. As I tried to take them in, my head started to spin and I struggled to find my next inhale. I looked for words, but none came. All that came were tears. Tears that felt familiar. Tears that had been with me for a long time. The doctor stared at me, puzzled. I did not try to explain myself. I don’t think I could have if I tried.
As someone who has battled blood and needle phobia my whole life, the only thing I knew was that this felt like a nightmare becoming a reality. I asked her if there were any other treatment options and or if there was any chance these results were incorrect. The answer was no. In fact, she said that my levels were so high that I needed to go and donate blood as soon as possible, either that day or the next.
I got out of that office as fast as I could and collapsed into tears as soon as I shut my car door. My tears became sobs, and my sobs became rage. I yelled at and pleaded with God, “God, why?! Why are you making me do this?! Please, create a different way. Please give me another option. Do not make me do this!” This grief and lament continued to come throughout my day as I tried to orient myself and wrap my head around what was happening to me.
Looking back at myself in that moment and remembering the anguish I felt, I have been deeply comforted by knowing that God intimately understands what I felt. In the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus anticipated His upcoming submission to death on the cross, He pleaded with God and begged Him to change His situation. Luke 22:41-44 describes this scene:
And He (Jesus) withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and began to pray, saying, ‘Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.’ Now an angel from heaven appeared to Him, strengthening Him. And being in agony, He was praying very fervently; and His sweat became like drops of blood, falling down upon the ground.
This scene in the garden teaches us that it matters to God that we tell the truth about our pain. As a little girl, I could not handle the idea of willingly being poked and prodded. I had some traumatizing experiences that left me feeling powerless, scared, and alone. Now my 7-year-old trauma was showing up in my 26-year-old body. I have learned that this is how trauma works. Unless we tend to it and seek healing, it follows us with power and ferocity. It was not fun to remember these difficult memories. However, it did bring me some comfort to tell the truth, and it surprisingly created a shift in my heart. Somewhere in this process, I had a realization. This time, things were different. This time, I did have a choice. Although I did not want to give blood, I made the decision to do this hard and painful thing for the sake of loving my body. I went to the Red Cross and donated blood. It was terrible. I cried, protested, and felt out of body at times. But then it was over. I felt so much relief.
A few days later, I got an unexpected email letting me know that my blood went to a woman in Birmingham, Alabama, and that it likely saved her life. My suffering, my blood, likely saved a life. In my anxiety, I had not even considered the fact that another life would be impacted. Tears came to my eyes as the Holy Spirit showed me the parallels between my story and Jesus’. While my bleeding was a fraction of His, Jesus taught me something about His life and giving me the chance to understand it in a way I had never been able to before. Mostly, I began to understand in a new way how deep His love is for me, that He would willingly bleed out to the point of death on my behalf. I was so scared about having a tiny needle in my arm for 20 minutes. I could not imagine the depth of fear He felt as He anticipated dying on the cross. He gave His life to secure eternal relationship with me. This brought a whole new set of tears. Tears of awe. Tears of gratitude. Tears of worship.
I do not know where you find yourself this Easter weekend. Maybe you are in a season of joy and celebration. Maybe you are in a season of ordinary life. But maybe you are in a season of suffering, where you are being asked to do things or release things that you don’t want to do. Maybe you need someone to give you strength, to encourage you, to help you tell the truth about your agony before God. If this is you, take heart. Jesus understands. He has gone before you. He has felt everything you are feeling and more. May your heart find comfort, hope, and guidance in His journey to the cross that did not end in death, but resurrection life!
Mary earned her undergraduate degree in economics from Washington and Lee University in 2018. After working in consulting and real estate development, Mary decided to follow her calling to become a counselor. In 2023, she earned a Master of Arts in Clinical Mental Health Counseling from the University of North Carolina Charlotte. Mary lives in Charlotte with her husband, Jay, and their French Bulldog, Adele. She loves good conversations with friends over the dinner table and enjoys hosting people in her home. A native Floridian, Mary loves the sunshine and will take any opportunity to spend time on the water!
