everyday thoughts on eternal things
This is my hope in life and death. In pandemic quarantines, and chronic illness, and uncertainty about loved one’s health. In anxiety, and weakness, and broken bodies, and the world’s innumerable sadnesses. Jesus is still alive, even when it doesn't feel like Easter.
Self-deprecation comes naturally to me, and in my brokenness it often feels right to slouch in a corner, to make myself small under shame for fear of doing wrong. At the window by the pines though, the Spirit speaks to me of a better way.
Easter is coming, but for now we wait. And beloved, though today we may wait, Easter is coming.
I’m receiving it as mercy, the reminder that if it feels hard to follow Jesus, to obey him and love him, to sacrifice my own desires to know him better, it’s normal.
What kind of Love must this be to not only acquiesce to, but welcome such a crowd?
Keeping Heart 