There’s been an observation rolling around in the back of my mind (sometimes coming ‘round towards the front) since my Good Friday post (read here if you missed it). I’ve been thinking a lot about what the weight of the cross was to bear when Jesus hung on it and died. What was it like to bear the weight of all sin and redemption of the entire universe?
When I was in middle school, I read through all of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. This series follows our main hero, Percy Jackson (12 years old at the start of the series), who tends to be thought of as troubled. Percy ends up finding out he’s a demigod (half-human, half-god), the offspring of a human woman and the Greek god of the sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses: Poseidon. Percy is thrust into a world unknown to himself at the beginning. It’s a world full of danger and mystery, dealing with themes like parental abandonment and family dysfunction.
The Greek gods portrayed in this book are written with a younger audience in mind, but it does not shy away from portraying the Greek gods as we often get to know them in ancient Greek myths: petty and powerful with a penchant for abuse, drama, and self-glorification, giving blessing or wrath depending on their swaying moods. In our ancient world, gods were not worshiped because they were “good,” or “faithful.”
About halfway through the Percy Jackson series, we are introduced to the Greek Titan Atlas, who is a fascinating mythological figure. Greek Titans in mythology had waged war against the Greek Olympian gods (the most powerful of them Zeus) and the leader of the Titans was Atlas, appointed by Kronos, the Titan of time and ages. As the story goes: Atlas was appointed for his war skills, especially his durability and orientation skills. Despite having the upper hand in the war for the majority of it, the Titans were eventually defeated by the Olympian gods. Zeus, king of all gods, designed a special punishment for Atlas: the be the eternal guardian of the pillars between the heavens and earth. We often understand that as this today: Atlas was condemned to carry the weight of the sky to keep it separated from the earth’s ground below. While some ancient writers disagree about how hard or easy this weight was for Atlas to carry, nonetheless the fact remains: this was designed as an eternal punishment for Atlas.
I think a lot about narrative as a writer. How you tell a story matters, and what you communicate in that story is the reason why you tell it.
I think about the stark narrative difference between Atlas, the Greek god eternally forced to hold the weight between the heavens and earth and Jesus, the God who willingly hung on the cross to bridge the gap for us by taking on the eternal weight of our sin and suffering.
God has not subjected himself to anything, ever, since he has existed. What God does, he does because he desires to.
How radical must it have been in the ancient first century to come to the knowledge and belief in a God who has only ever willingly borne the suffering of humanity? How radical is it now?
I do not know how God can bear both the weight of suffering and the redemption of it. I do not know why this is something God wants to bear.
But I do know that this is all because he loves us - you and me.
If there is anything I can reassure you about, it is this: God has carried the weight of your sin and suffering already, and he will continue to bear it until it is made right. And he does this because he loves you.