It’s still cold in the morning and the wind is pulling at my wet showered hair and my toes are curling in cold because I wore my polka-dot flip flops instead of sensible warm socks. But this time of year if the sun is out, I take my coffee out on the deck.
My coffee has prematurely cooled and I am left with just watching the wrens squawk above the bare branches over my head and thinking about today:
How to explain suffering as a happy occasion?
How to wrap your head around that the Christmas birth in stable was only the opening act for Crucifixion on a hill?
The only way to make sense is to take in the full scope of the brokenness.
Stop long enough from the surface busyness, the shiny imitation tinsel, the garish make-up of a stage performer, and in that stillness you will start to take in the full scope of the brokenness, the non-sensible legacy of violence, and how really, really we humans are part of the problem, even as we genuinely try to find solutions.
When Jesus took His last breath the writers tell us there was an earthquake, and the curtain in the Hebrew’s holy of holies inner sanctuary room in the temple ripped from top to bottom in one clean slice.
All the fissures of this unhappy planet had to get busted open, as He bled out.
And bam! In a moment of real time and space this busted open became not a death wound, but an open door.
God in us, was now possible.
That is what makes Good Friday good.
Glue: it puts US back together again.
But the thing about glue; it always leaves evidence of the patch up, doesn’t?
I am made whole, like a shattered delicate bone china tea cup repaired.
I am filled up, now that I am whole, and can now fulfill my original purpose-to be filled up to the brim with the Holy Spirit so all the goodness and the power of Father, Son, Spirit can spill out like an offering.
But, as D.L. Moody said:
Trying to ignore my freezing wet hair and the fact that I can’t feel my big toe this morning on the deck I thought about this:
I am perfectly fit for heaven, a new creation.
this new put together me feels kinda shabby on lots of days.
More flea market find, less precious heirloom.
Because I still leak out and mar the white linen table cloth before me.
Because I am not perfect.
Because this life is hard,
Because there is still wickedness and sin and ugly all around.
Oh, what is to be done about this paradox of holy and crude duking it out- invisibly inside of me?
We see it all too vividly in this world, do we not?
Three words came to me as I held my cold coffee mug
Death to self.
Good Friday humility. Not just as show on church days, but on all days, especially when no one is watching, and no one notices.
Not grandiose martyrdom,
Simple everyday sainthood.
The example of the four gospels, empowered by the trinity.
It’s typically not Easter bonnet flashy and pretty.
It’s donning the towel simple and degrading, more often.
But it is precisely the super natural epoxy glue that a broken world needs.
Linking up the talented writer Lisa Jo Baker on this Good Friday five minute friday.
Have a blessed and reflective Easter weekend.