I
love this time of year. I love
waiting with expectation for my crocuses to open and my daffodils to
shine. I love how snow decides to
become rain and brown becomes green and the days grow longer and full of
promise.
I
love to see my children run outside and play for hours.
I
love how every devotion book I own turns to the story, the main story, the
walk, the climb, the death and the life.
I
love remembering that his dearest, closest friends were yet human. I
love knowing He loved them even in their humanness.
As
we drove in the middle of the night to the hospital, my little girl told me
about the things she loved. It
seemed incredibly odd and unusual timing.
She was recovering from surgery and burning up with fever, but at five life
doesn’t revolve around problems but possibilities.
A friend had delivered a frozen lemonade to her the night
before. She
told me all the way to the hospital that drink was absolute “yum.” And she
loved it.
We
pulled into the emergency room parking lot in the rain. I was not thinking about what I loved. I
was trying to strategize how to avoid getting wet, but no such option
existed. For that moment, the
spring rain I have so cherished annoyed the life out of me.
Ava
asked if this hospital was like the one she was born in; the one in China. Sadly that is a detail, one of many I
do not know. I did not love that
question, nor the lack of answers.
I
look at the story, the passion story and wonder which disciple I would be. I wonder if at the garden I too would
have fallen asleep. I am
amazed that He includes that story;
I love that He did. At the
greatest turning point in history, the most sacrificial act ever performed; the
God incarnate has asked for prayer and His dearest friends disappoint.
The
message of God, the love of God, the sacrifice of God, the promise of God;
truly one of the simplest stories ever told. Why then do we complicate, separate and consternate. We take something so inclusive, so
inviting, so inspirational and we divide.
We
make a choice to accept the story, to embrace the gift and to try and wrap our
minds around a Father who would paint our existence with grace and mercy. Or we walk away, perhaps painting with
a brush of fairytale, that the message is too simple, too farfetched too impossible to be truth.
We
take what the world gives and dispense of grace. We trade it for goods and great; leaving a hole within us
where glory should reside.
I
listen to my daughter. I listen to
her finding heaven in the mundane.
I look at her finding sweetness in lemonade and memories in
hospitals.
Frankly
I don’t want to be the disciple that falls asleep. I want to stay awake for this story. I want to remember that we are here for
an incredibly short time, the prelude to the real adventure.
I
want to find things I love even amongst the things I have learned to hate. I can despise this election, or thank
my Jesus for the right to vote. I
can hate illness, or thank my Savior for medicine and doctors.
I
can dance to the busyness of the drum, or find the rhythm of the gospel woven
into the opportunities of everyday life.
The
enemy has so manipulated our lives to think outside ourselves instead of within
our hearts. He has taken our pride and
made it predominant. He has taken
our time and sacrificed it on the altar of pleasure instead of praise.
I
want to be in love with the gift of this life; the choice to surrender my concerns and bathe in the grace
of a Jesus that will forgive my weariness in living out the simplest of
commands.
I
want to finish this race out of breath running after Him, not after more
time, or more talent or more things.
I
want to embrace Him with the simplicity of a toddler and the passion of a
child.
Surely Your
goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life… Psalm 23:6 NLT
No comments:
Post a Comment