This internet thing. It’s a place to vent and share and connect with people you’d never know otherwise. Links and clicks drop new people into our circle.
And sometimes you get dropped into their lives when everything feels like it’s crashing down.
I learned of a new (to me) blogger by way of his post adding me to his blogroll the other day. And then the very next post. And the next.
Cancer is a real bitch. CoolChange, you and your wife will be in my prayers. May God grant you peace on this journey.
It rained last night.
The raindrops gently washing the day’s tears from fresh flowers and wreaths laid on so many graves as they quenched the heat of the day. I was free to sit on the front porch with my husband and enjoy the relief, my son tucked safely in his bed.
My freedom came at great cost. It always does. Freedom cannot be purchased with favors or spoils. Freedom is only ever purchased in blood. In this world, it’s the blood of many soldiers that will never again share a cool beer with their spouse. Their sons’ foreheads never to feel that goodnight kiss.
Thank you. Thank you for the divine sacrifice. May you claim your great reward in eternity, a freedom also purchased in blood.
Is death. And we are all sinners and fall short. I fall short on a regular basis. Daily. Hourly, even. The miracle of it is that it’s okay.
It’s okay because the one perfect man to ever walk the earth paid the bill for me. And it was expensive. I cringe when I think of what he went through. Beaten and abused almost to the point of death before they ever nailed him to the cross. For me.
For inconsequential, far-from-perfect me. It weighs heavy on my heart.
This is the cornerstone of the Christian faith. Because on Sunday, Jesus breaks the rules. In truth, he’d been breaking them all along to the supreme annoyance of leaders of the time. He wasn’t supposed to heal people on the Sabbath. Or speak directly to the Samaritan woman. Dine with tax collectors and prostitutes (Bet the conversations were far more lively than at the Pharisee’s dinner).
And once he was dead, he was supposed to stay dead.
But Jesus isn’t much for the arbitrary rules. No, he gave Satan the finger and rose from the dead. And in the ultimate practical joke, paid all our debts too. He threw open the gates of Heaven to any who would accept the invitation. No velvet rope. No bouncer with a list. And yeah, the best party ever is going on there. No dress code. No magical words to recite.
He paid it. All anyone has to do is accept it.
What’s so good about Good Friday? Sunday is coming.