‘…so they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be.” This was to fulfill the Scripture which
“They divided my garments among them,
and for my clothing they cast lots.”
So the soldiers did these things, but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.’
– John 19:24–27
She was there, standing at the cross while they ripped up his clothing. His mother. He was naked… and they were ripping his clothes. She watched them do it. But they went to rip his coat… likely the one that she had woven with care and love, fitted exactly to his body… and they decided to gamble for it. How she would ache to even have his coat to grieve over… but they were gambling for it. The agony of that moment for her… to watch her son abused. His was the body she had birthed, nursed, held, cared for, lovingly watched grow, clothed throughout his life… her son. The astounding thing is that he knew she needed support. He was no ordinary son, he was THE Son. Of God. And He knew her pain. He knew the sword piercing her heart at that moment…. and He cared. Deeply. Enough to entrust her to someone else; to John. He met HER need even in his darkest hour.
It must have seemed so purposeless and random for her to see them ripping the clothing… then gambling. She didn’t make that lovely robe for a crude murderous man to wear. She made it for her son. But it was actually fulfilling the very words of scripture. The clothes she made for him — normal, humble, loving, quiet housewife work — actually validated his very deity by fulfilling prophesy. There will be an eternal, weighty, important purpose for every bit of work and suffering that I go through here on earth. No matter how normal, no matter how painful. Scripture records their conversation… “let us cast lots”, and follows it with “This was to fulfill Scripture…”
Think of the moments of heartbreak in your life… the times when it seemed like what you loved and valued was callously and casually dragged through the mud of life. Moments when everything in you screamed with the unnatural injustice of it. Like watching a precious life slip away from the body it should live in, an application denied, a child still wandering, a hard earned career go up in smoke in a moment, a long slow disease eat through the awareness and vitality of a loved one. Will it not be shocking to know that in God’s book… those things are simply followed by, “this was because…” and an incredible, lovely, eternal purpose suddenly comes into view. That is what Heaven will be… a million moments of “this was because…” And in that day, our suffering “will not be worth comparing to the eternal weight of glory that will be revealed.” Not even worth comparing.
You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8