By Rick Chromey
Holes come in all shapes and sizes, from pinpricks in paper to massive holes in the ozone. There are knotholes, peepholes, and sinkholes. If there’s a hole in your story, you’re not telling the whole story. Our food is filled with holes. Swiss cheese is among God’s holiest. Doughnut holes are delicious.
Some of God’s finest holes are tourist attractions, such as the Grand Canyon, Royal Gorge, and Mammoth Cave. Space tourists, however, would think twice before visiting a black hole.
A Google search of holes produced 87 billion results.
That’s a lot of holes.
I’m not sure there’s a history of holes. We don’t know who dug the first one, though it probably was Adam. Men dig many holes. Scripture—God’s Holy Word—tells us Jacob dug a well, Joseph’s brothers dug a pit, Elijah dug a trench, and Isaiah dug a vineyard. There was plenty of digging in Jesus’ parables: a landowner dug a winepress, a servant dug a hole to hide money; another man dug deep to hunker his house to rock.
And yet the greatest holes in history were pounded into Jesus’ hands and side, and Jesus invited Thomas to put his finger in the wounds that set men free. As Isaiah penned, his wounds heal us. His holes fill us. God lives in life’s vacuums.
Today, as you meditate upon your own holes, remember his. The human heart is a black hole and a grand canyon of deceit, lust, greed, and selfishness. And yet, in this memorial meal, we pack our hearts with gratitude and praise. The bread that represents his body fills cavities created in our crimes against divinity. The cup represents his blood, which seeps into the tiniest cracks and crevices to heal the holes. As Jesus told Thomas, and which he now speaks into our own hearts, “Stop doubting and believe” (John 20:27).
We gather together as a broken people, dinged by our choices and punctured by our circumstances. We assemble in weakness, but leave in his strength. This ancient meal is a weekly reminder that life’s deepest holes can be filled only by God’s holy Son. The crosses we bear and the holes we dig to anchor them are merely Friday fixes. His body bridges the chasm of sin and his blood floods doubt’s darkest holes. We simply must believe his grace heals us. Because of the cross, we are complete. We are free.
We are truly holy.
Rick Chromey is the director of leadership and online training programs for KidZ At Heart, International, Mesa, Arizona. He has empowered children’s ministry leaders to lead, teachers to teach, and trainers to train for more than three decades (www.rickchromey.com).