Difficult to understand that it requires the final step to realize this, but that is the ultimate redemptive step. My reflection for today is here.
It’s a step people take every day, but you don’t hear about it. Although lately I’ve realized that today’s youth are much more connected to tragedy and triumph around the world than we were when I was growing up. It’s both a blessing and a weight.
I’ve watched the positive side as the chorus of voices has brought justice and change to discouraging situations. It engages people in a far more personal way than all their ‘friends’ in cyberspace can.
Jesus gave his life for what he believed in. Every day someone does the same. Every day, others run from it, as Judas depicts. The price of passion.
I was telling someone today, your life is like a bank account. You come into this world with a zero balance, and you check out the same. And your life is a series of deposits and withdrawals, but in the end, it always balances to zero. You can share your joy in the God spirit with others, or you can hoard it. Only one way multiplies it beyond measure.
It is a time to rejoice!
He was such a quiet person.
It’s easy to spout peaceful platitudes when everything is going fine and everyone is treating you well. But when someone speeds up from behind and keeps you from merging onto the highway, and then another honks and cuts in front of you because you’re only doing the speed limit, do you feel the anger and resentment rising? Are you tempted to flip the bird? Honk? Memorize a license plate and – do what?
I wonder how his closest friends felt when Jesus was taken down from the cross. When they went home after he was buried, what was their emptiness like? Were they filled with despair? Did they feel their entire lives pressing down on them?
What did they do?
If someone you believed in deeply, patterned your life after, and given up everything for, suddenly moved on, what would you do?
Just like in classic story structure, all seems lost right before the end.
Yet, at the darkest hour, we are given the greatest opportunity. Do we take it? Or do we cower and shy away from it, responding in reactive form?
And in other parts of the world, life went on as usual. Jesus gave his up for what he believed in.
Would you be willing to do the same?
She sat down a couple seats and across from me, and never looked better. Her face shone. Others engaged her, so I just smiled and remained quiet, content to talk to those around me, to listen to the conversation.
My wife hugged her goodbye when we left for the night, ahead of her. They promised to be in touch.
Two days later she was gone.
I wonder if the disciples and friends of Jesus were aware of what he was saying, what he meant. Would they have fought as Peter did by drawing the sword? Why is our response always so violent? What do we gain by harming others? How can that outweigh the cost to our dignity?
Diane Marcou lives in us, and always will. A connection was made, and the passing on of one does not sever that connection.
Jesus lives on is us, if we are open. So do so many others. We are all made up of many parts, our own and the touches of others. We are each a melting pot, and the more ingredients mixed in, the richer the flavor.
God is like that – multi-faceted and unfathomable.
One more day and the time is upon us – the supper, the cross.
If you were waiting to go, how would you feel? I wonder what went through the mind of a man David Brooks talked about. How appropriate the man’s first and middle name were Charles Darwin.
If this cup would pass…but it isn’t really up to us. I just wonder when our limit has been exceeded, what will our choice be?
Until that happens, I don’t think anyone would know. It’s easy to talk about something in the abstract, expounding platitudes and other grandiose ideas. It’s another to face it head on – and respond.
One thing I know is, I can never be mad at God. It’s pointless and counterproductive.
As Jesus prepared to spend a few last days with his friends, I spend today in quietness, leaving the radio in the car off, being quiet when I could speak up against an injustice or perceived slight; cherishing those around me. They are a part of my life.
They are where God is.