Resurrection

How can it be Easter, it’s not Sunday?

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I was spastic yesterday. I wasn’t ready to go back to work after having “GASP”, 11 days off. I felt like an alcoholic tearing open cupboards looking for a swig of something, anything.  Yes, I am human, I am weak, I am frail. And I wasn’t focusing right then on who I am in Christ. I was looking for a quick fix……

Going back to bed would have worked.

And this morning, I wasn’t expecting the overflow of His Great mercy which came in like a flood as I was praying on the way to work. This year holds some significance for me and I have only just recently realized it.

It’s 40 years this year that I have been walking with Jesus.

Forty days and forty nights it rained.  Moses was on the mountain 40 days and 40 nights, the Israelites wandered 40 years, Jesus fasted in the wilderness for 40 days and was seen on the earth for 40 days after His crucifixion.

40 years now He has walked beside me.

And the fact that we were on His heart, His mind, His plan even before time began? It still blows my mind everyday.

This morning, I thought about all the Resurrection Sundays I have celebrated  in different churches. Each one different, each one a blessing.

The flowering of the cross at St. John’s Episcopal…….the service at Capital Christian where they made Jesus disappear and I still don’t know how they did it…..the sunrise service at my Aunt’s Methodist where we all held hands in the morning dew and sang along with the birds that Morning had indeed broken…..the Easter morning in Arizona that was every bit as beautiful as Easter morning should be, when we saw the Mother duck and her babies……so many over the years, and the best part of it all is this:

It’s not just one day, it’s every day since I have met Him that Easter breaks free in my heart, over and over.

In the car, as His grace washed over me, I remembered how I wrote about how God picks us first. And I also remembered that all too often I pick Him last. And that’s when His love really kicked in. It washed over me and baptised me anew, and this one thought held me, gripped me.

That when all my ridiculous home remedies fail, even when I choose Him as a last resort, when my back’s against the wall, He still loves me.

Even though He chooses me first even when I choose Him last.

Forgive me Lord.

And from the cross, and from Heaven, and in my heart I hear Him say……

“I do.”

In the grip of His grace today and there is nowhere else I would rather be.

Broken for You

The Right Path....

I was rifling through the CD rack when I happened on one from my old church. The one I still miss so much. We caught a golden wave during those years when we worshipped there. It has changed. We have gone back several times and always felt like we were rushed out. It felt like a drive through service. Oh, it was slick and it was smooth and perfect.

No room for the Holy Spirit.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for my own reaction when the first song came on.

One minute I was standing, and the next I was on my knees on the cold laminate floor, hands in the air. With tears streaming, I remembered.

I had forgotten how anointed music sounds, how it affects you. And once again, all those years were back. All those feelings washed over me and something broke apart in my heart. Something inside me broke and I don’t want to be cold and unbroken anymore. I had forgotten how it felt to lose track of time just praising God and it felt……..so……..good.

I remembered how it felt to want to run down in front of the church again, that feeling of surrender.

I remembered how we would lay hands on those around us if they had a need, and how the Spirit felt like waves across the church. Holy……Holy……Holy.

No one should ever leave the church still holding onto a burden, but so often we do just that because we aren’t given the option, or we don’t take it upon ourselves to seek it out.

Yesterday, I needed out of control praise in my own living room. We have had to be too much in control too long, and it was time to let go. I needed the kind of praise I imagine the woman gave Jesus, the one caught in adultery. I imagine how she felt as she waited for the first stone to strike. Wondering how long it would take to die that way.

I imagine her relief as she heard a thud in the dirt instead and then a gentle hand on her shoulder, and an even gentler voice.

I really don’t think as He helped her up she just shook His hand and said, thank you Sir. I think she fell back to the ground and worshipped at His feet. I imagine she slobbered and wiped her tears and clutched at His robe that was dragging in the dust. I have a feeling she cried and prayed loud sobbing wet tears and wiped her nose on the hem of His garment.

And then maybe He helped her up again and smiled and gave her a rag to wipe her nose. And then I think she might have done a crazy dance like King David did all the way home, waving her hands in the air as her heart tasted forgiveness for the very first time.

I did both of those things in my living room yesterday morning, and it felt good. I want this rock inside me to break apart and stay apart. I want to throw the fish in the pan and let it cook itself and stay here forever like Mary, choosing the better part.

I realize we can’t always walk around a broken up mess, but I wonder why I don’t much more often.

Thank you, Lord. Your timing is perfect as usual.

Wearing ashes on my heart

Confession

I love the idea of getting “Ashed” for Ash Wednesday. I wish my protestant church would start doing it. I guess I could find a Catholic church on my break, but I probably won’t. If I were really honest I would have to say a bit of me would be embarrassed to wear that smudge all day. I am afraid people would be coming up to me all day saying I had something on my face. I guess that means I need to wear them more than anyone.

I am not going to give up anything specific, but I am going continue to try leaving more and more of myself at the foot of the cross.

I will willfully try not to be a ball of anxiety most of the time. At any given time, my left eye will start to twitch…..that is a sure sign that I need to improve in this area. As Elaine tells the kids on her bus over and over again, anger is a choice, so is anxiety.

I will continue to stumble along the Way carrying my own small cross to calvary. I will  fail and I will fall, and when I get there I will  leave things at its foot and then turn around and snatch them back up again. But I will most definitely keep on going, with my eyes on the hope of the empty tomb.

I have recently started reading the Bible through in a year. I am using the YouVersion on my IPhone, Old Testiment/New Testament plan. So far I like reading both side by side for the contrast. I am wading through Exodus…..endless sacrifices, endless rules, endless geneologies. I find myself skimming through it and yet I know it is all there for a reason. I am comforted by the human element in all the stories.

I love when Moses tries to get out of going to fetch back the Israelites from Egypt….I love the exchanges between He and God, how he tries to wear God down, and how God in his infinite love and mercy, finally gives Moses a concession by allowing Aaron to be his spokesman.

And then in Matthew, when Jesus tells Peter that He will be killed there and Peter recoils in horror. The thing that struck me about that was Peter was so focused on Jesus’ death that He doesn’t even take note of the fact that Jesus also said that in three days He will rise.

Just like all of us, focusing on the ashes of death, the big negative and completely skipping over positive, the happy ending to the story.

The Resurrection hope that belongs to us all.

Keep your ashes close today, wherever you wear them.

Blessings and peace to you today, Lori