Do the Work

Do the Work

by | May 11, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Do the work.

That’s my thesis statement for this, so I’m just going to start out saying it. Whatever your work is, in whatever part of your life, that’s how you find success: in doing the work.

I was thinking about this because of something my best friend, Stephanie, came across in an instructional video about running ads for successful book marketing. The instructor said, “Success isn’t random.” That resonated with Stephanie.

It resonates with me, too, and goes right along with some other things I’ve been thinking. Or rather, with other places in life where the same rule applies. It’s something my husband and I teach in our marketing classes…and it’s also something we talk about in our spiritual lives.

We always have to do the work. Always. Day in and day out. In season and out of season. Whether we feel like it or not. Whether we see the results we want or not.

The truth is easiest to see in business examples, so I’m going to start there. We talk a lot about best practices, especially for creative endeavors, where there isn’t a right and a wrong, per se. There are just good things to do that are always good to do. We call those best practices. It’s always good for an author to have a website. It’s always good for them to have a newsletter they send out regularly. It’s always good to be sharing things that will enrich their readers, not just trying to sell a book. It’s always good to be present where they are, both in the physical world and online.

But those are “just” best practices. Following all of that doesn’t guarantee you’ll have a million-copy bestseller on your hands. Doing it all faithfully won’t mean that a book won’t flop now and then, either. What it does guarantee is steady response to steady action. Things will build. They will grow. And as long as you’re doing the work, you’re making that lightning-strike more likely. You’re raising a lightning rod, let’s say, and saying, “Okay, I’m ready! Strike here!”

Often it won’t. Sometimes it will. Either way, you’re doing the work, and results will come.

But you know when it won’t? When you’re doing nothing. Oh, once in a while a breakout bestseller will strike when the author has done little to get it out there…but even then, work was done. They wrote a book. I 100% guarantee you that you’ll never have a successful book if you don’t do that FIRST work of writing and editing and publishing it.

But the same is true of ALL parts of our life.

Want to raise a great family? Obviously first you need the people…but then you have to do the work. Day in and day out. When you’re exhausted. When you’re sick. When you don’t feel like it. I so well remember those days when my kids were little, when I just wanted a break for an hour or a day or (dare I dream it?) a weekend once in a while. I rarely got it. And when I did, it didn’t really do any miracles. But you know what helped? Realizing that I was doing the work. I was building memories for my kids. I was teaching them valuable lessons about life and God and family and themselves. Was I perfect? Ha! Far from it. Would I change things if I could? Absolutely.

But I was there. I did the work. I’m still doing the work.

Marriage. Same thing. Want a successful marriage? Do the work. Be there, day in and day out. Listen, in season and out of season. Make the decision to love them again every morning, every noon, every night. Fix what’s broken. Don’t be lazy. Talk about things that matter. Does that guarantee success 100% of the time? No. Sometimes only one spouse does the work and the other decides to pursue something contradictory. Sometimes people will claim to be perfectly happy without any effort at all. But 98% of the time, healthy relationships come from those same “best practices.” Show up. Be where they are. Communicate. Provide what they need at the deepest heart level.

And then…faith. Maybe we know this is true of faith because it’s true of everything else in life…or maybe it’s true for everything else in life because it’s true in faith. Regardless, you can see where I’m going.

We’re never going to be miracle workers if we’re not praying every day for others’ healing. We’re never going to move mountains if we don’t regularly command them to be tossed into the sea. We’re never going to shake off (metaphorical even) serpents if we don’t do risky things that God asks us to do. We’re never going to win souls for Him if we don’t make it apparent every minute, in deed and in word, that we are His…and if we don’t go where they are. We’re never going to understand Him better if we don’t talk to Him, listen to Him, follow His example, be where He is.

The workers are few. That’s what Jesus said about the harvest. It was true in His day, and it’s still true in ours. Because being lazy is easier. Letting someone else do the work. Sitting back and admiring those fields or eating what people bring you. Most of us would live our lives perfectly content to let the status quo keep on being the status quo.

But that’s not the kind of faith that Jesus died for. He SHOOK THE WORLD with His teaching. Snapped people to attention. Challenged every single preconceived notion and assumption. He may have said His burden is light–but He also told us to pick it up and carry it every…single…day.

Day in and day out. In season and out of season.

Do the work. Because only when you do will you see the fruit of your labors.

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Seasons

Seasons

by | May 4, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

As I’m writing this (a couple weeks before it will post), I’m looking out my window to the view of redbud trees and wisteria in bloom. The world is covered in that fresh, new, bright, lush green of spring. And, yes, the cars are coated in a lovely yellow-green dusting of pollen. Despite the runny nose brought on by that last one, spring is my favorite season. I love all the new life, the blooms, the color reemerging after a long, bleak winter.

And to make it even better, we’re in the Easter season. Oh, you might be frowning and saying, “Um…it’s May. Easter was WEEKS ago!” and that would be true, even from when I’m writing this. But it’s also not. Because the Easter season lasts until Pentecost, fifty days later. We’re still in it. If you listen to the Liturgy of the Hours, you can tell it by the victorious “Allelujah!” that follows every line. You can tell it by the victorious Scriptures, all focused on Christ’s new life and, hence, ours. On the works of the Apostles in those first days. On the Church that sprang from that empty tomb.

I’ve always loved Easter, so stretching it out like this…it speaks to my heart. I brings me joy. It settles my spirit. It’s also, this year, made me think.

If I were to go around town now, I daresay most of the Easter decorations would be down, much like Christmas ones come down by or after New Years. Those same decorations were up weeks before the day. I’m not judging that. I love to see seasonal decorations! But it made me think, as I saw “He Is Risen!” signs more than a week before Easter. It’s true, of course–we live in the world where He is risen, praise God Almighty! But when I saw that sign this year, I was still in the penitential season of Lent. I was still focusing on the trials and tribulations He underwent, on the literal trial that led to His death. I was, in fact, about to spend an entire Friday fasting and praying and remembering the day when a crown of thorns was placed on His head, stripes were lashed into His back, and He was nailed to a cross.

He is risen…but He wasn’t. Not yet. He was still about to die. And the thing I love about all these liturgical seasons is that they invite us to dwell there, with Him and with the world, for a while. In Advent, we put ourselves in the position of a world without a Savior and yearn for His coming, prepare our hearts for His coming. Then there’s Christmas! Praise God, the Savior has arrived! And we rejoice in it not just for a day, not even just for twelve, but all the way until the Baptism of Our Lord, which is at the end of January.

Anticipation…and then dwelling.

The same things happens with Easter. We anticipate what He suffered, we suffer it with Him, because He told us to. He told us to take up our crosses and follow Him. And we do. Every day, yes, but every year, in its season. We walk with Him through His ministry, up to His final days, and we weep with the world as our Savior dies…so that we can REJOICE when He lives again! That rejoicing is HUGE, my friends! So huge it can’t be contained in a day. Not in a week. It needs FIFTY days, and we are still in those. We are still in a season of rejoicing. We are still in the spiritual Spring, when new life has come upon us!

This year, that’s especially poignant for me…because we’re in a new season in our family too. Our oldest, Xoe, is going off to college this fall. This past year was one of finding schools that appealed to her, putting in applications, making visits, getting acceptances…and then making decisions. In a few short months, we’ll be driving our girl to Annapolis and leaving her there. She’ll be starting the transition to full adulthood, taking care of herself, deciding who she wants to be for the rest of her life. And we’ll be deciding the same, in a way. Because in a few short years, her brother will be this age too. And then we’ll be empty nesters, still in our mid-forties. A lot of life still ahead of us, God willing.

The beauty of the changing seasons is that they bring new opportunities, they bring new life, new growth. They also bring times of drought or flood, times of death and dormancy. All in life isn’t redbud blooms and wisteria blossoms…but it isn’t all frozen puddles and brown leaves, either. Life is ever-changing, and enjoying each season–or at least learning from it and growing stronger through it–is what it’s all about.

It’s what the Church teaches me in its cycles–that there are days of self-examination. Days of penitence. Days of anticipation. Days of expectation. There are days of victory. Days of joy. Days of singing and dancing and crying out “Allelujah!” all day long. There are days of learning. Days of teaching. Days of victory and of defeat.

Some of them are going to be hard. Some easy. All designed by our Creator to shape us into people worthy of following after Him.

Spring is going to give way to summer, summer will wane long, Xoe will go off to college, our household will change. Easter will turn to Pentecost, Pentecost will fall into the routine of Ordinary Time, Ordinary Time will eventually lead us back to Advent. The cycle will continue, life will move onward.

We need to recognize the seasons we’re in in life, just as we do in nature. Make sure we’re “dressed” right. That we’re planning our days and setting our expectations accordingly. We need to examine our surroundings, our hearts, our goals. We need to know when to anticipate…and when to dwell in the being of a thing. We need to know when to move forward and when to linger where we are.

And when we do that, we’ll find the beauty in each season. The joy underscoring the sorrow. We’ll feel the pain and the sting and the sorrow…but we’ll know it’s for a purpose. That each seed that falls to the ground is there to spring up again. Every goodbye is also a hello. Every chapter ended is one begun.

Live in the season you’re in. Don’t be looking always to the next–don’t be wishing you were still in what’s behind. Be here. Be now. Be who God wants you to be today.

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Converting to True Conversation

Converting to True Conversation

by | Apr 27, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

In recent weeks, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about conversation. And the more I think about that, the more aware I am of a word that sounds very similar: conversion.

We today may not realize it, but those two words are from the exact same root. Both combine the Latin con (with, together) and versere (turn). Put those together, and both words mean a turning toward something, living, dwelling, a way of life.

That doesn’t sound much like conversations we have today, does it? When we talk with each other, more often than not we seem to be talking at each other; talking over each other. We’re trying to prove we’re right.

That has nothing to do with dwelling. Nothing to do with turning toward each other or a new life focused on God, which was the primary meaning of conversion in English for its entire history.

Conversation, though, shouldn’t be about right and wrong–it should be about learning from each other.

The first weekend in April, we took our daughter to Accepted Students day at our alma mater, St. John’s College in Annapolis. St. John’s is known as “The Great Books School,” where for four years students read the foundational texts of western civilization and then…talk about them. That’s where the magic happens–in the conversation. Each class is just twelve to eighteen students gathered around a table with a tutor (professor), talking about what they just read. All conversation starts from the common text–outside material isn’t allowed, to guarantee equality.

That day spent at my old college struck me in my core. It reminded me not only of why I loved this place where I spent four years, this place that shaped me into who I am, but it also made me keenly aware of something our culture today has rather deliberately turned its back on: the importance of true conversation.

At SJC, they call it “the dialectic.” That’s just a Greek version of the same word, “conversation.” It means “relating to the art of reasoning about probabilities.” I emphasis the word art there, because that’s rather crucial. Science, my friend, has right and wrong answers. But art doesn’t. Art isn’t about the solution or the answer or the final product. Art is about the discovery, the emotions stirred, and the enlightenment reached.

In a visit just before we went back to St. John’s, someone said, “We can talk about anything. We might not agree, but we can talk about it.” I of course assured them that agreement isn’t necessary. But as that sentence echoed in my heart for the next several weeks, it made me realize anew that agreement is another way of saying “right and wrong.” If we agree, that means you think I’m right and I think you’re right. We take the same stance, the same position.

And that’s all that matters in society today, isn’t it? Where you stand. What side of the issue you’re on. And if you’re not on my side…well then, I can’t even talk to you.

Oh, my friends. Does this hurt your heart like it hurts mine? Because if we can’t talk to, can’t converse with, people regardless of our stance, then we cannot possibly ever learn. And if we stop learning, we stop growing. And if we stop growing, we stagnate. And if we stagnate, we waste away to nothing.

Part of the “magic” of my college experience was that those eighteen people around the table came from every possible background, religion, and perspective. We had atheists sitting next to Muslims sitting next to Hindus sitting next to Orthodox Jews sitting next to Christians, all discussing the Bible…or Kant…or Thomas Jefferson. And it wasn’t about who was right. It wasn’t about who agreed. Never once do I remember deciding I didn’t like someone because of a position they took in class. Why? Because we all took whatever positions the conversation demanded, and then we adjusted those positions throughout–BECAUSE OF–the conversation.

The only thing that mattered was that we were all willing to engage. We were all willing to be part of the conversation, part of the dialectic. We were all willing to LEARN from each other and the text.

Then I look at the world around me, and I see people unwilling to read a book or article because the author is from the opposite political party, therefore they must be disagreed with on EVERYTHING. I see people demonized because of one opinion they hold. I see conversation shut down in favor of shouting matches or (even worse in my opinion) idle chit-chat that never even tries to touch on things beyond people and events.

My husband and I have been talking a lot about how to restart conversation in our world. We exist in a perpetual state of it in our own home. It’s kinda funny. We start out talking about practical things like who’s going to drive Xoe to ballet, and yet within a few minutes we’re somehow on the philosophy of learning or spiritual awakening or some other abstract idea. Through those conversations, we reach new understandings, ask new questions that send us on new searches, explore our own hearts and souls, and grow ever close to each other.

How do we bring that outside our home though? How do we engage people who don’t seem interested in it? How do you stir a heart that likes to be set in its ways?

I know that the answer is through conversation–through conversion. We all have to be willing to dwell with each other in our words. We have to be willing to turn toward each other and truly engage, truly explore. We have to be willing to learn, not just to prove something.

I want to have real conversations again. Do you? If so, then maybe we can do it together. And then with others, and then with others. We don’t have to be “like minded.” We just have to be willing to engage. And if we do that, we’ll all end up growing. Learning. Discovering. And oh, the “magic” that will happen.

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Mental Congestion

Mental Congestion

by | Apr 20, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I can’t tell you how often it happens.

I close my eyes, nestle in all comfy-cozy in bed…or roll over in the middle of the night, meaning to just find a new position and then keep on sleeping…but I can’t.

My brain turns on. A switch is flipped. And the thoughts…the thoughts start swirling. Buzzing. Clamoring.

I know I’m not the only one to deal with this, right? RIGHT?? LOL

A little while ago, my best friend was the kind of sick that involved a sore throat and stuffy nose. When I asked her how she was feeling, she said she hadn’t slept great because of the congestion–a feeling I certainly know well! And then that she also had trouble turning off her brain. To which I said, “Ah, so mental congestion too.”

“YES!” she said. “That is the perfect phrase for it!”

And it really is, isn’t it? Sometimes our thoughts are just congested. Instead of being orderly and filed in their proper places, they’re all a-jumble, clogging up our minds and tripping over each other. Sometimes they won’t come out…and sometimes they’re just spilling like a faucet we can’t turn off. They keep us from falling asleep. Or from falling back to sleep.

Some days, I don’t mind. This is how I’ve come up with many a story. It’s how I’ve planned out innumerable blog posts. I design book covers with my eyes closed many times, or dream up the next dream I want to pursue. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said to my husband, “So when I was lying there last night, I came up with this idea…”

I love ideas, whenever they come. But let’s face it–I’d prefer they come in an orderly fashion, between the hours of 5:30 a.m. and 9:30 p.m. Is that so much to ask?? 😉

The same day Stephanie and I were talking about Mental Congestion (I am so laying claim to that phrase–think I should trademark it?? LOL), another friend, Mike Sollom, author of Grief Exposed, sent me an email. He and his wife had recently come across a nightly “examen” meant to help our thoughts settle and center on Christ at the end of each day, and he thought maybe I’d enjoy trying it.

I read over the document he sent and quickly saw that it was in the same vein as many of the spiritual formation exercises Laura Heagy has shared with the Patrons & Peers group, which I’ve then shared here. That made me smile, assuring me that it was one of those God Things we all know and love, when totally different sources all combine to show you something the Father wants you to see. Don’t you love those?

I admit it though: I’ve tried to do this sort of nightly ritual before, and while it’s great, it’s usually only a week or so before I forget one night, and then I’m too tired the next, and then the next thing I know, a month has gone by and I look over and see my notebook and go, “Oh! I totally forgot about that!”

I can’t say for sure that this will be any different. But I hope not. Because the beauty of this little exercise speaks to my soul…and my congested mind could certainly use it. Maybe you can too. Even if we don’t go through it step by step every night, keeping the process in mind as we settle into bed could be rewarding.

The practice of an “examen” goes back centuries and millennia; you can see at a glance the relation of the word to “examine,” right? The idea is simply to examine your day, your conscience, your heart, your mind…all with a focus on the Lord. In this case, it’s been broken down into a few steps or perspectives to consider:

Enlightenment
Thanksgiving
Reflection
Response
Closing

We begin with Enlightenment as a means of bringing the light of Christ into our hearts–pause to see yourself as God sees you. If you’ve done the Beloved Charter, this is a perfect time to revisit it. Remind yourself that you are a precious child of God. That He loves you SO MUCH. As the Holy Spirit to reveal the parts of your day He wants you to think about, especially where God was moving…even if you weren’t aware of it at the time.

Looking back on my day, I can see that God blessed me with the words I needed to write, even though I had a headache. I can see that He was walking with my husband and me in the evening as we chatted about Things That Matter. I can see Him reaching out to me through friends and colleagues when I needed encouragement.

Next comes Thanksgiving. This is pretty self-explanatory, but a practice I daresay we can all do more often. Thank God for His blessings that day. Thank Him for how He spoke to you through nature or friends, through His Word, through all the little things.

It’s spring here in West Virginia, and I can’t glance outside without being astounded by the beauty of His creation. That beauty thrills my soul anew every single year, and it’s a beautiful reminder to thank Him. I am so grateful for the friends and family He’s given me and how they enrich my life. I’m constantly filled with gratitude at the husband he’s given me, who challenges me to go deeper, with whom I can have conversations that matter, who loves me more each day. I’m amazed again each day at the children who have grown into near-adults and who talk to me about everything from the universe (as a scientific thing) to cat jokes. The more I dwell on all those things, the more grateful I am, not just for what God has given, but for who He has made me. For the fact that He wants to be in communion with me. Little me!

Now it’s time to get specific with your Reflection. This is where you should bring to mind some specifics from your day. When did you feel the worst? Physically, mentally, emotionally? When did you feel the best? Why? What did you or can you learn from those moments?

I had an interesting case of this. There was an opportunity I’d been hoping for, and I suddenly realized it may be 100% impossible. As in, not really an opportunity at all, just misinformation. That made my heart sink, and I had to examine why I had so much hope pinned on it. What is it about this that I want so much? What can I do about that if it isn’t possible in the way I first thought? How can I redirect? What has it shown me about my heart and goals? Where is God guiding me?

I also realized that that “realization” had led me to some general frustration. The thought of that being beyond reach made me unhappy with things I’d always been happy with. I was grumbling about not having comfortable chairs on my porch. About all the hours I was spending caring for sick animals. About the fact that I felt under the gun with a deadline, even though I’d planned my time pretty carefully and knew it would be tight.

So then, Response. This is where you acknowledge all those things from your day, from your heart, from your mind. This isn’t about trying to school yourself into the “correct” response. This is just where you embrace what your actual response is. “Lean into it,” as my husband frequently says. “Feel it.” There’s no point in denying your emotional reactions. Embrace them, but in the same way that you embrace an angry toddler–not to coddle, but to soothe. To explore why you feel that way. To turn it over to the Father.

Sometimes, this is going to mean that I shed a few tears. Sometimes, this means that I tell God, “I’m so frustrated right now! I don’t know what to do!” Sometimes I might whisper-shout to Him, “Why did you ignite this yearning in me if nothing’s ever going to come of it? Was it not really from You? But it FELT like it was!” Sometimes I need to confess a sin or a less-than-godly response.

Sometimes I’m just going to worship Him, in awe of what He’s done. Sometimes I’m going to laugh in gratitude. Sometimes I’m just going to bask in the comfort of His presence.

Once we’ve worked through our responses, we say a simple Closing. Renew your commitment to Christ, asking Him to show you how to follow Him in all those things, and into tomorrow. Look ahead to what you know is coming and ask for Him to guide you. Put all your concerns into His capable hands, and ask Him for a restful night.

Of course, this isn’t some magical formula. Going through this process every night won’t guarantee peaceful sleep all the time. But like so many rituals, it will help. Clear out some of the congestion. And show you things about yourself, your heart, and your mind that otherwise might not have filtered to the surface through all that “stuff.”

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Judgment Call

Judgment Call

by | Apr 13, 2023 | Thoughtful Thursdays

“I cannot do anything on my own;
I judge as I hear, and my judgment is just,
because I do not seek my own will but the will of the one who sent me.”
~ John 5:30 (emphasis mine)

The Gospel of John has a lot to say about Jesus and judgment, about Jesus and condemnation. He didn’t come to condemn us, but to save us. God gave Him the power of judgment, but He doesn’t just use it willy-nilly. His judgments are all true. They are all just. They are all…simple, in a way.

Think about it. When we talk about human judgment, we’re usually talking about a decision we’re making about something. It it good or is it bad? Morally right or morally wrong? Preferable or not? Is this something to seek or something to avoid? Something we can easily forgive or something that makes indignation burn within us?

Our judges have to make decisions, give verdicts. Their judgments can be contested and appealed. Judges can be unjust…greedy…bought…biased. So if we’re considering judgment in the light of our very human and often fallible terms, then…yeah. Judgments are changeable, not necessarily just, and definitely a decision that can be swayed–and not just by facts. Judgments can be swayed by emotion just as easily.

Something occurred to me recently, though, when I read that passage in John again. Perhaps it combined in my mind with a passage from the end of C. S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces, when the character is finally granted an audience with the gods and is allowed to list her complaints. In the book, the mere listing of them in that environment does a miraculous thing: her own bias is removed, and the facts–the facts that she had interpreted one way–are suddenly clear. She can suddenly see the truth of those facts. She knows what they mean. She understands them. And so, when the gods ask her if she still has a complaint, she says no.

That’s what true judgment is, and that’s the kind that God holds in His hands, and which He gave to Christ. It isn’t a decision. There’s no “judgment call” to be made. He sees the simple TRUTH of each fact. He knows our motivations, our desires, our fears. He knows what we intended and what we didn’t. God, when He judges humanity, isn’t up there uncertain about what He’ll say to us. Our facts speak for themselves; and Christ speaks for us too…if we let Him.

Because there’s no selfishness in Jesus. There’s no greed. There’s no bias. He simply stands at our side and loves us. He pours His precious blood over us. And suddenly, our facts–our sins, our victories, our joys, our sorrows, our failures, our successes–are all crystal clear but redeemed.

Maybe for some of us, that’s comforting–that God isn’t some angry judge just itching to condemn us. That He simply sees the truth: the simple, complicated, complete, unveiled truth of us. He sees it, and the simple facts equal simple decisions. But for others, that might in fact be scary. We want a judge we can convince. We want to smile and bat our lashes and appeal to the emotions of those sitting in judgment over us. We want to be able to keep the secret things secret and only tell the things we want them to know, bending them in a way favorable to us.

We won’t have that chance when we’re before the Father. But we also won’t need it.

I don’t honestly like being asked to judge things, whether it’s the best of kids’ science fair projects or whether someone should do this or that, and certainly not whether so and so should be condemned for alleged crimes. Because I never feel like I have all the facts. But God…He does. And that makes His judgments what all judgments should be: just and true.

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Reproached and Redeemed

Reproached and Redeemed

by | Apr 6, 2023 | Holidays, Thoughtful Thursdays

My people, what have I done to you?
How have I offended you? Answer me!

I led you out of Egypt,
from slavery to freedom,
but you led your Savior to the cross.

For forty years I led you
safely through the desert.
I fed you with manna from heaven,
and brought you to a land of plenty;
but you led your Savior to the cross.

What more could I have done for you?
I planted you as my fairest vine,
but you yielded only bitterness:
when I was thirsty you gave me vinegar to drink,
and you pierced your Savior with a lance.

For your sake I scourged your captors
and their firstborn sons,
but you brought your scourges down on me.

I led you from slavery to freedom
and drowned your captors in the sea,
but you handed me over to your high priests.

I opened the sea before you,
but you opened my side with a spear.

I led you on your way in a pillar of cloud,
but you led me to Pilate’s court.

I bore you up with manna in the desert,
but you struck me down and scourged me.

I gave you saving water from the rock,
but you gave me gall and vinegar to drink.

For you I struck down the kings of Canaan.
but you struck my head with a reed.

I gave you a royal scepter,
but you gave me a crown of thorns.

I raised you to the height of majesty,
but you have raised me high on a cross.

My people, what have I done to you?
How have I offended you? Answer me!*

 

We weren’t there, standing outside the courts of Pilate and shouting, “Crucify Him!” We weren’t there in the Praetorium, striking Him and spitting on Him and whipping Him. We weren’t there on the hilltop, mocking Him and telling Him to save Himself.

We weren’t there. But our sins were. Our pride. Our unbelief. Our doubt. Our heresy. Our judgment. Our scorn.

Our sins stained the air. The weight of them bore Him down upon that cross. They separated Him from His precious Father in a way nothing had ever done before. Because He was fully human, we know He asked why. Why? Why were the people He loved so much treating Him this way?

And yet, even in that horrible wonder, even as He yearned for it to be different, He made the choice not to save Himself…so that He could save us. We delivered Him to the ultimate pain, the ultimate humiliation, the ultimate sorrow…and He used it for our redemption.

He gave us the world. We gave Him the cross. And then by that cross, He gave us heaven too.

Lord, I am unworthy. And yet, by Your blood, made worthy. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

 

*Taken from the traditional Good Friday Reproaches (Improperia)

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