Victory...

Today I am grateful for the Risen Lord, who with his victorious resurrection has redeemed me for all eternity.  He has RISEN!  He has risen indeed!

Luke 24:1-7

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.  They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.  While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.  In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; he has risen!  Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'"

Grace...

Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."  When he had said this, he breathed his last.  Luke 23:46  (NIV)

The final words of a dying man rang out across the landscape as the sun hid itself and people slowly drifted away.  The spectacle of a "king" dying on the cross was over, and other than the soldiers who guarded the prisoners to be sure no one could steal their bodies away, it is likely only those who loved him most remained, frightened, uncertain, unsure what to do next.  Their lives were in danger from their close association with him, and they didn't know where to turn.

The women were probably a little safer.  As females, they weren't worth notice, and they may have crept closer to his feet to try to touch him one last time.  But the Sabbath was at hand, and preparations needed to be made.  They must have been torn, wanting to stay, wanting to leave, not knowing what was to come next.

Joseph, a faithful man of honor and integrity, one who had not agreed to this death of a righteous man, went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.  I imagine Pilot was happy to unload the responsibility.  After all, as long as Jesus was hanging there, his followers could still be incited to  insurrection and violence.  They had little to lose, as they were already considered outlaws themselves.  I am certain Pilot thought the sooner Jesus was gone from sight and mind, the better.  The last thing he would have wanted was a martyr to inspire their cause.

Joseph did not cast Jesus into a pauper's grave, as might be expected for someone who was crucified as common criminal.  That is likely what happened to the other two who hung there with him.  Instead, Joseph took Jesus to a unmarked tomb, cut from a rock, as yet unused. We can only assume it was a family vault, probably purchased for his own burial, and as such, would have been a decent place to lay the body.  Although wrapped in linen cloths, his body was unprepared for burial because of the lateness of the hour.  The women who had remained followed Joseph, and knew the location of their beloved Jesus, determined to come back after the Sabbath and anoint his body with spices and oils, to prepare it properly for burial.

What utter desolation the followers of Jesus must have experienced then, as the realization hit them that their beloved leader was gone.  They did not understand the epic battle that was being waged on their behalf, and on ours, at that very moment.  They did not realize that Jesus was in hell, utterly without God's presence, fighting the power of Satan alone for the purchase of our souls for all eternity.  They thought the battle was over, and had been lost.  They were blinded by their human limitations, unaware of the glorious resurrection which was now just a few short hours away.

Grace is the unmerited, unearned forgiveness of God.  Jesus has paid our debt in full.  The power of God's mercy, his unending love and faithfulness, have already been bestowed.  All we must do is accept him and we will rejoice with him for all eternity.

Tomorrow we will celebrate the victory of Jesus over death once again.  It is the victory of God over Satan, of good over evil, of eternity with God instead of being cast away from him.  Despite my sinful nature, God will not only forgive everything, but will bring me to him when my own time has come.

For now, I am grateful for the opportunity to journey to the cross along side my Savior, to walk with him in his life and death through the words of the Bible, and to know my salvation is assured through his resurrection.  God's grace has been present each step of the way, and his unconditional love and mercy are beyond my limited human understanding.

Forty days of gratitude is not enough.  I will be grateful all my days for the gift of God's grace which will bring me home to the arms of God when my turn has come.

Fulfillment...

Jesus often spoke in vague references, and his words frequently had more than one meaning.  I think that is especially the case with this intriguing statement found in John 19:30.

When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished."  With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.  (NIV)

It is difficult to separate his statements from yesterday and today, because they are intertwined with the last moments of his life, and they really go together.

Once again, of course, there was a human element in his statement, as his life was literally ending.  But I think, as before, his meaning went beyond the words he uttered.  Going back to the actual word he used in ancient Greek, tetelestai, which means paid in full, I think this goes directly to the reason for Jesus becoming human.  He came to earth in human form to do what we could not - to redeem us, to buy us back, from the outcome our sinful selves had earned.  His payment, the sinless life and blameless death, was now complete, finished.

I also believe as his suffering was at last coming to an end, he was acknowledging himself as the Savior to whom the prophets had referred, and his death as the fulfillment of their prophecies.  Until this point, Jesus always demurred to answer the question of whether he was the Messiah.  He allowed others to speak on his behalf, or asked them who they thought he was.  But now, as his earthly life was ending, he finally acknowledged, for the few who remained, exactly what his mission had been, and how he had fulfilled his role in our salvation.

Why then?  What prompted him to acknowledge, at last, why he had lived, and ultimately died?

I think as he finished with the earthly part of his life, he was preparing for the hardest battle of all, the fight with Satan for the salvation of our souls.  The devil is a sore loser, and Jesus knew he would not give up willingly.  That final victory would only come when he escaped the clutches of Satan's snare, and he was resurrected from the grave.

In his last moments of life, the love of Jesus continued.  These words, uttered as his followers sadly watched his life ebb away, confused and uncertain about the fate which had struck down their teacher, their leader, their friend, were given in reassurance, if only they had understood.  Although Jesus would momentarily descend into the utter darkness of a hell where God is absent, his love unavailable, with no hope or relief from the despair of sin, our ultimate redemption was already assured, the battle was already won, victory was on the horizon, and God was already with them.

Today I am grateful for the fulfillment of God's promise in the death of Jesus.  As he finished his earthly life, he secured for me, and for everyone who accepts his grace, eternal life with God by paying our debt in full with his sacrifice.

Endings and beginnings...

Four years ago, I walked away from the life I had known for well over 20 years to move back to my home town.  I had a number of pressing reasons for the decision, but those important reasons did not make the process easier for me.  I sold the home in which I raised my children, gave up the majority of my possessions, left the friends who had become family, and went back to a place where I would be starting over, despite having been there before.  I felt, in many ways, that I had come full circle.  I had lost almost everything tangible that I had spent my life building, and was back to square one.

I had no idea then what I would secure by losing.  It would have been a lot easier if I had been able to see the future and know that four years later, I would have regained everything I thought I was giving up and more.

It was only through finishing one phase of my life and closing that door completely, that I was able to move on to the next phase and find the joy that was waiting for me.  It is in retrospect that I understand the release which happens when you let go of the present and move ahead to the future.  What I thought was an ending was really only the first step to something new and different.

When Jesus was on the cross, he was finishing his earthly life.  He had done what he had come to do.  He had shared his message, spread the ministry God set out for him, and then he faced the ultimate sacrifice.  In John 19:28 we read,

Jesus knew that everything was now finished, and to fulfill the Scriptures he said, "I am thirsty."

I have thought a lot about what that means, because, in fact, his work was not quite done.  On the contrary, our salvation was won, not just in his death, but in his resurrection.  As his life ended, it was the beginning of something new and better and different, not just for him, but for us.  So what does it mean when we read that Jesus knew everything was finished?  And did the reference to thirst mean something more?

The easy answer, of course, is that this passage is referring to his human life.  But I think it means something more than that.  The Old Testament is filled with allusions to the Savior of the world.  Prophets predicted his coming, and there are hundreds of passages which talk about his life, ministry, and ultimate death, written many hundreds of years before his birth.

Jesus knew that the cross was the fulfillment of the prophecies, the end of waiting for the Savior. It must have been a relief to give up the burden he had been carrying on our behalf and know that he had finished the earthly mission upon which God had sent him.

Once he had achieved this goal, then, at last, he admitted to thirst.  No doubt by that time his dying body was dehydrated and in terrible pain.  I am sure every cell was crying out for relief, and the vinegar water they had offered and which he had thus far rejected was finally welcome.  Finally, this part of his mission over, he was able to ask for some relief.

But the more I read and think about his words, I believe he is also referring to his thirst to return to God.  His time on earth is drawing to a close, and his eyes are turning towards heaven and God.  I think he is thirsting to be back in the company of his father, as we all are when we are committed to him.  He has sacrificed his all, and is ready to return to where he started, renewed and refreshed, the same, yet different.  By closing the door to this earthly realm, he can once again return to his Father in heaven for all eternity.

Because Jesus was human, he understands the difficulties of facing endings in our human lives.  But in looking forward, we also look heavenward, and in so doing, we find hope and renewal.

Today I am grateful for endings and beginnings, especially the death and resurrection of my Savior.  Because God values each one of us above all else, he chose us to be with him, and we will end our life on earth with the promise of beginning our eternal life with him.

Sacrifice

As most parents would tell you, they would do anything, even at the cost of their own life, to save the life of their child.  This is played out dramatically in different ways across the globe, as parents risk everything to provide their children with food, medical care or education.  The need to protect and defend our offspring is a powerful force, and the family unit is generally inviolate across all cultural barriers.  It is, in fact, one of things that virtually all people have in common.

It would take something cataclysmic for most parents to abandon their precious child.  Even to be separated from them emotionally is difficult and painful.  And yet, this is exactly what God did.  It is clear the torment Jesus felt as he cried out his next words from the cross.  In Matthew 27:46 we read,

At three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, saying, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" (which means, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?")  (NIV)

This is a very difficult statement upon which to reflect, far different from everything else spoken from the cross.  In it, Jesus reveals his humanity in full force.

It is hard to imagine the anguish, indignity, pain and humiliation he must have felt, a righteous man dying like a criminal in the most gruesome possible way.  It almost feels indecent to speculate on the deep wound revealed by his words, given the circumstance in which they were uttered.

And yet, Jesus said very little in those last hours.  I believe every word was spoken intentionally and with meaning, not only for those present, but for us as well.  And so we must investigate this very personal cry for help made by our dying Savior.

In taking the sin of the world upon himself, Jesus separated himself from God.  We don't know how this was done.  As Christians, we believe in a triune God, separate but together, three but one.  How God could be separate from a part of himself is a mystery that I do not understand, but it does give some elucidation on the depth of the pain he experienced in the division.

His prayers indicate a certain reluctance to face this battle, although as always, Jesus asks for God's will to be done.  In the event he complied fully, but there may well have been moments of hesitation as he contemplated this outcome.  This is an act of unimaginable sacrifice and grace, to give up his beloved father, not because he deserved it or had done anything to cause this separation himself, but because his father asked it of him on our behalf.  His example inspires me constantly, as I realize my human reluctance is not a barrier to doing God's will.

This cry from the cross was a desperate plea from Jesus to God, a very personal moment of anguish.  I believe Jesus was nearly broken, not by the pain of the cross, but by the pain of the separation from God.  It was almost unbearable to him to feel the absence of God in that moment, and was undoubtedly a fearful reminder of what was to come as he descended into the depths of hell to fight for our souls.

Why then, did he cry out for all to hear?  What message is there in this personal moment between Jesus and God?

I believe Jesus acted from love once again, to show us that even in our brokenness, God is always present. No matter how desperate the situation, no matter what we are going through, God is only a cry away.  Because of his sacrifice in enduring this separation, we will never have to do the same.

Today I am grateful for the sacrifice Jesus made in allowing himself to be separated from God on my behalf.  I am also grateful that he was willing to share his broken spirit with us from the cross, so when we feel broken, we know we are not alone.  There will come a time when we will all cry out that we feel separated from our God.  The power of Jesus' love will restore our spirit and his redemptive grace will restore us to God.  I am unworthy, but God is gracious.

Honor...

When Moses came down from Mount Sinai after his conversation with God, he bore with him the Ten Commandments.  They were rules to live by, rules which keep a society functioning and civilized.  They are rules which we observe, even today, whether we recognize their origin or not, because they are solid ground rules for living well.

Among the rules, second only to the rules about how we are to act towards God himself, is the commandment to honor our father and mother.  It is a simple statement.  Obvious, perhaps.  But how far we seem to have strayed from it in these more "enlightened" times.

I have recently read a couple of commentaries by so called experts in child development which state, quite seriously, that parents must earn their children's respect, while at the same time demanding that children be respected by their parents.  Self-esteem and children's rights apparently rule the current day.  Oh really.

How old fashioned I feel, having taught my children that simply by virtue of being their mother, they owe me respect.  (The only exception I make is if a parent has done something so egregious that they deserve disrespect.)  I made mistakes and misjudgments and got things wrong, because I am human, but they still needed to earn my respect through making good choices.  It was their goal to work for, and when they earned it, they knew they had really accomplished something, and it felt good.  I guess I got it all backwards, according to the new age of child rearing thought.  I find it baffling.

There was no such confusion in the time of Jesus.  Women, including mothers, were considered little more than possessions, first of their fathers, then of their husbands, then, if they survived long enough, of their first born sons.  It appears that Joseph had already died, and Mary was the responsibility of Jesus, her first born son.  At the time of his crucifixion, she would have been dependent on him for her very life in a society which did not help the helpless.  In the midst of her grief over the impending loss of her beloved child, she must also have worried about the loss of her protection, her status, her sustenance.

But Jesus did not lose sight of his responsibilities, even in his time of greatest need.  As we read in John 19:26-27,

When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother."  (NIV)

The use of the term woman, rather than mother, interests me.  At first glance it appears cold, removed, distant even.  But that is not consistent with his obvious respect and concern for her, even in the midst of torment and suffering.  So I searched for another explanation, and I think I understand this statement in a deeper way.

As he looked down from the cross, he spied his mother weeping and waiting, and one last time he honored his obligation to her.  He saw his beloved disciple standing nearby, and entrusted to him this precious earthly relationship he would no longer be able to have with Mary. Jesus was honoring Mary and her new connection with John by distancing himself from the mother who cared for him and whom he loved, and transferring that special bond to the disciple he was confident loved him enough to honor her as if she were his own mother.

It was the ultimate act of honor, to give up the love of his mother from the cross.  It is foreshadowing for what he was about to do for us all.

Just as we often fail to properly honor our parents by word and deed, we also often fail to honor God, our eternal father.  All too frequently, we have it backwards.  We are arrogant, demanding, expecting God to honor us and our wishes, instead of showing him the honor he is due.  We pray expecting results, and get angry when they aren't answered as we want.  We try to negotiate, using our love and respect as the bargaining chip to demand what we think we deserve.

But Jesus showed us the way God yearns to be loved.  Even from the cross, Jesus honored the mother who was so important to him.  As his life slowly ebbed away, he continued to show us the road map, unceasingly spreading the message of God's gracious love and mercy, even from the pain of his suffering.

Today I am grateful for the example Jesus set in honoring his mother.  It was an act of deep courage to disown her and give her up to John, one which was rooted in his love and caring for her.  As he began the descent into the hell of desolate existence without God, his mission of unconditional love continued, and his example was unfailing.  He did what was best for Mary, at the cost of losing her at the time of his greatest need.  He did the same for each one of us, at the cost of his life.  What an honor to be a child of God.

Forgiveness...

Most parents have experienced the moment where a beloved child shouts in anger that they no longer love us.  Usually, it is thrown out by a young child in the midst of a temper tantrum, because they are not getting what they want at that moment.  More rarely, it comes from an adult child who is angry and unforgiving, and the path to reconciliation is more painful and much more difficult.  No matter the trigger, although we still love our child unconditionally, they are not experiencing that love, because they have rejected us at that moment.

Although God offers us his unconditional love every second of every day, we cannot live it when we are rejecting him.  We must recognize his offer of grace, accept ourselves as flawed, and trust in his word to experience God's redemptive love.  When we ask God to heal the wounds, both that we feel, as well as those we have caused, we also feel God's love for us in full measure.

When Jesus spoke from the cross, he spoke in love.  While the crowds jeered and the soldiers cast lots over his clothing, Jesus was caring for the condition of the aching souls around him.  His first words from the cross reflected that unconditional love.  His second statement went even further.

In Luke 23:43, Jesus, speaking to the criminal hanging beside him, said,
"I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."  (NIV)'

This bold utterance was not made casually, nor in ignorance.  Jesus knew fully well with whom he was speaking.  The men being crucified with him that day may have been highway robbers or bandits who wreaked violence upon innocent travelers.  There is some speculation, based on the exact wording in the Greek text, that their crimes may have been for sedition or rebellion against the Holy Roman Empire.  Jesus was considered a rebel, even a revolutionary.  The fact that these men were crucified with him may indicate they were subversives of some kind.

But we aren't told, because those details are not important.  When Jesus made his promise, it was not about the crime, but the condition of the heart of the criminal hanging beside him.

This man, who had been sentenced to die, reached out to Jesus.  He did not ask to be saved from the cross, or more importantly, from the way he had lived his life.  He accepted his wrong doing, he admitted to the purity of Jesus and recognized his own unworthiness. He repented for rejecting God, and asked only to be known to God once again.

His repentance was the act of reaching out to God.  Asking for forgiveness was accepting God's loving grace.  Unconditional love comes with complete forgiveness.  That is why Jesus came to the cross, and why he offered full pardon to a criminal who was under penalty of death.

One criminal went to his death bitter and unrestored.  He is the angry toddler, mad at God for not giving him his way, and paying the ultimate penalty for his willfulness.

The other criminal will spend all of eternity in the presence of God, redeemed by the blood of the Savior who was hanging beside him.

They are us, and we are them.  Our God is a loving and merciful God, waiting to bestow his grace upon us, if only we will open our hearts to him.  He is anxiously waiting to hear that we no longer reject him, and our hearts are open to his merciful salvation.

Today I am grateful for forgiveness.  It is the extension of God's unconditional love for us, undeserved and unearned, but given to us because we are loved so completely.

Unconditional love...

The world is a chaotic place in the 21st century.  There are frightening forces sweeping across the globe, evil permeating the very fabric of the tenuous civilization that we take for granted.  Misguided fanatics target innocent victims with violence and hatred, bringing death and destruction everywhere they go.  It is frightening to live in these times.  We don't know where the evil will strike next, we only know it will come.  And so we wait in fearful anticipation, wondering if it will come to us.

But this has always been so.  It is not unique to this time or this place.  In every century, men, women and children have fought and died for property, liberty, life and especially their faith.

In no cultural history is this more true than for God's chosen people.  They have been targeted through the millennia in a way no other people of faith have ever had to endure.  It is easy to understand how, from this long tradition of violence, ostracism and hatred, there came a hope, a belief, a dominant theme of earthly rescue, salvation, and rectification.  God's people were waiting for their promised Messiah, the King who would come and reign in victory over their oppressors.  They were not looking for a baby in a manger, much less a carpenter's son to die on a cross.  They were expecting glorification, not transformation.

It is not difficult, when you look at the context of the times they lived in, to understand the skepticism, the outright rejection of Jesus as Messiah, Savior of the world.  He was, from birth, an unimportant man.  He had little in the way of resources, an itinerant teacher who hung out with the chaff of society.  He uplifted the outcasts while castigating the religious authorities who, in many ways, protected their people from the worst excesses of their overlords, the governors of the Holy Roman Empire.  The rules were stringent, and disobedience was not tolerated.  Insurrection was dangerous, not just to the protester, but to their family, and the whole community.

In this tightly controlled society, Jesus was an outlier, a constant irritant to the religious leaders. His preaching opened up dangerous new ideas and he encouraged people to act in ways which deviated from the norm.  He worked miracles on the Sabbath, he preached against Mosaic law and he collected followers who hung on his every word.  The crowds were growing everywhere he went, and it was becoming impossible to contain him.  He was a threat to the whole region, and the religious leaders wanted him to go away.

What was this radical message that frightened the religious hierarchy into action?  He preached love for others.  He taught that God is directly accessible.  He healed and listened and embraced those who lived on the fringe.  He welcomed the sinner, because that is who he came to save.

During the whole of the Holy Week of the Passion, Jesus was inexorably moving towards the cross.  He knew where he was going, he knew how the week would end, he understood his fate, and he was prepared, as best he could be, for the trials that were about to come to him.  When, at last, he hung on the cross between two common criminals, jeered at, thirsty, exhausted, and in pain, his first words, spoken directly to God, were of love and forgiveness.

In Luke 23:34 we read,

"Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing." (NIV)

He was motivated, not by hatred, but by compassion.  Despite the torture he was enduring, he had no room for anger.  He recognized that the people who surrounded him, people at their worst, had no understanding of who he truly was or why he was there.  And he was moved to extend his grace, even in the midst of his torment, because his message was, from the very beginning, one of unconditional love.

Today I am grateful to be the recipient of God's unconditional love.  It is boundless, infinite and ever present, even in the depths of despair.  Human spirit may fail, but God's love will be there through all eternity.  God's vision for us is unbounded by the limitations of our human understanding.  The first words of Jesus from the cross give us assurance of his endless and unconditional love.

Celebration...

Celebration is a big part of our communal experience.  The joy we feel as we gather to honor someone special to us radiates through the group, bonds us together, pulls us all in the same direction.  Humans like a party, and weddings and new babies are the best reasons to have one.  But most of us enjoy any reason to get together and celebrate.  It draws us in, and makes us want to join the fun.

Jesus participated in many celebrations during his life and ministry.  He enjoyed family parties, attended weddings, loved children and welcomed them warmly, and was a part of the community events while he grew up.  I imagine him celebrating special occasions, just as we do, and with the same joy and passion for his loved ones that we feel.  He was human, and his message was one of love.  I believe he loved his own family as much as anyone, and no doubt enjoyed being a part of the fuss.

But his life changed as his ministry began in earnest, and I imagine that changed the nature of his celebrations.  From his earliest days, he was amazing the religious teachers with his knowledge and understanding, and it is easy to imagine their growing concern as his message cast increasingly further from the Mosaic traditions to which they clung.

Most alarming to them, I am sure, was that Jesus spoke out against the authorities who were solidly in control of every aspect of their lives.  I wonder if his siblings grew disgusted, drew away from him, worried about their own safety and position in the community, as their brother continued to flout traditional theology and allowed those around him to call him Rabbi.  He was not a teacher, at least in the tradition they were used to.  He associated with people of questionable character, he embraced the untouchables of their society, he accepted Gentiles as his equal, and his message was off track from everything that was familiar.  He sought out those whom society cast aside as unworthy.  It had to be unsettling, at the very least, to be associated with him.

On Palm Sunday, Jesus came to Jerusalem to celebrate the upcoming Passover with those closest of friends, his disciples.  His ministry infuriated the religious elite, and his arrival in Jerusalem, the holiest of cities, for this most solemn of religious holidays, was certainly an audacious act of confrontation.  People were gathering from all over, and his name was undoubtedly passed from one person to the next, all wondering whether he would come, and what would happen if he did.  Imagine the anticipation when word was received that he was on his way.  The atmosphere must have been electric, with shock waves traveling through the crowds who were waiting for the festivities to begin.

Church tradition dictates that Jesus rode into the city in triumph.  We mark the day as a happy time of celebration, waving palms and singing Hosanna.  But I wonder if that is really the right attitude for this moment?  I think we may be a little premature in throwing the party so soon.  Because Jesus did not enter as a King, with all the pomp and ceremony we normally associate with royalty.  He rode into the city on a lowly donkey, an inglorious animal used for trade.  I think, once again, Jesus has done the unexpected.  The people were looking for an all powerful Master.  He came as a humble servant.

The celebration was real, but not as they understood it.  Jesus knew, even as the people cheered to see him, what was waiting for him at the end of this journey.  While they were looking for a palace, he was seeing a cross.  What an incredible mixture of confusing emotions there must have been, as word spread down the road that he was coming.

Excitement, interest, fear, anticipation - I think the people must have felt all of those as they waited.  And then, to actually see him, riding on a lowly donkey in his shabby clothing with only a few scraggly disciples to hold back the crowds so he could pass; well, I think it must have left them feeling let down, confused, bewildered by the events as they unfolded.  They did not understand his purpose, they did not comprehend the real meaning of his life and the death that was now so near at hand.  They were mired in the present, while Jesus already had his eyes fixed on eternity.

It is easy for us, in hindsight, to start the celebration at the beginning.  We know the outcome, we are assured of his resurrection and our salvation.  But the people on the ground, the people who were there, must have been confused and afraid.  This man, who was being labeled their king, was a simple teacher instead of larger than life.  Just being associated with him was dangerous, and I imagine the fear of being caught watching his entry into Jerusalem was real.  No one wanted to suffer the consequences of worshiping the wrong person at a time when that sort of sedition resulted in death on a cross.

As we approach the week of the Holy Passion, I am mindful of the real celebration this week.  Jesus came to redeem us.  He purchased our salvation through his death and resurrection.  God sent his son, our brother, as a sacrifice for us.  His triumph over Satan is the celebration we live each day.

Today I am grateful for celebrations of all kinds.  It is fun to get together with those we care about and experience the joy and happiness of special times.  But I am even more grateful to be able to celebrate the week of the Passion, a week which changed the course of my eternity.

Silence...

The world is a noisy place.  People talk all the time, about everything and nothing.  Social media has promoted the Culture of Me, and it is constantly amazing to me the amount of information people will share, especially online, and with total strangers.  With cell phones and social media and selfies and the constant barrage of information and photos and videos and news, it is hard to find a quiet place to rest and just be at peace.

I am comfortable with not talking.  I don't feel the need to express myself constantly.  I often think of things I could say, but don't, for a variety of reasons.  I have chosen to share some of my life in my writing, in the hope that it will help someone else feel less alone in their own journey, but most of the time I keep my own counsel.

I am a listener by nature.  I frequently find myself sitting quietly while people talk about themselves and their lives, and it is interesting.  I try to give uplift and support where needed, and share the joy when I can.  I try to be non-judgmental, which opens a lot of doors for people to let down their guard and allow me inside their head.  I am comfortable in the act of just listening.  Someone has to be quiet, and I'm happy when its me.

I think Jesus was a listener.  In reading the accounts of his life, I don't think he was a natural born showman, out front jumping up and down for attention.  I think, rather, the attention came to him because of the message he shared, and it was exhausting for him.  I believe that is why he occasionally had to hide himself away, whether at the home of a friend, in a boat on a lake, or in the Garden of Gethsemane during the Week of the Holy Passion.  He was overwhelmed by the attention, and he had to regroup before he could be at his best, whether in a crowd, or with his disciples and loved ones.

As we approach Palm Sunday, I wonder what Jesus was thinking.  He knew what was ahead, he understood his mission here on earth, he had no doubt about what would soon happen.  There is very little to tell us about his attitude or behavior, but one thing we do know.  He went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray.  Was he silent in prayer?  Did he cry out in the loneliness?  Or were his prayers inside his own head, spoken only between him and his father?

I am comfortable in the silence.  I enjoy the moments of peaceful repose when I am home, sitting on the sofa in front of my fireplace, relaxed and comforted by the warmth and the quiet and the calm.  It is in those times that I find it easiest to talk to God, without the daily distractions of life pressing in on me.  I wonder if that was what Jesus was seeking, too, when he went off by himself to pray.

Today I am grateful for the silence in my life.  I cherish those moments of peace.

Reformation...

The day I took my daughter to college was one of the most difficult days of my life.  I was walking away from her when she was going through a tough personal experience and I knew she truly needed me.  But I was afraid if I didn't go, she would lose her confidence and never recover.  I was so torn, not knowing what was right.  But I realized she needed to know I believed in her, so she would believe in herself, and somehow I found the strength to leave her, painful though it was for both of us.  (Good thing she didn't know I drove around the corner and cried for two hours before I was able to drive myself home!)  She was reformed through that hard life experience, and I know the solid, joyful person she is today is, in part, because of getting through that tough time.

It reformed me, as well.  I returned, alone, to a large empty house, suddenly without the parenting responsibilities I had carried for so many years.  I had no one to answer to, no one to cook for, clean up after, monitor or direct, and I was at loose ends for a long while.

Our relationship, although changed externally, remained parent and child.  I spent many hours on the phone and going to visit.  But the daily responsibilities had changed, and I needed to refocus my time and attention in a new way.  I had to reform my life to fit my new circumstances, and it was hard, even painful, as change usually is.  But without reformation, there would be nothing new.  And sometimes new is glorious.

Jesus came to earth as a human being, a baby, born into humble circumstances.  He died on a cross like a common criminal, bearing the pain for our sinful natures.  But then he arose, reformed, to a new life in heaven with God.  His reformation was our salvation.

Reformation is hard.  It requires us to give up something familiar for the unknown.  We only know where we have been, and it is uncomfortable to lose the solid footing of our present self to step out on what seems to be thin air.  We can fall, we often do, in the process of reforming.  The bumps can be jarring, they can even break us, but the healing is part of the process of becoming new.

Just as a caterpillar reforms to become a beautiful butterfly, we too can reform to become a better version of ourselves.  We can cast off the ugly shackles of past failures and embrace the new opportunities that present themselves.  People of all ages reform themselves.  It is never too late to become someone new and even better than before.

God asks us to reform ourselves in his image when we love and follow him.  He doesn't ask us to give up living in the world, that is part of being human.  Instead, we are asked to live as Jesus taught us, with love and compassion and prayer.  When we reform our secular perspective into one of faith, we become the best version of ourselves, the person God intended us to be.

Today I am grateful for reformation.  It is the ultimate change, and eternal life with God in heaven is the beautiful outcome.

Sonshine...

On a warm August night 30 years ago, I went into labor with my first child.  At 24, I had no idea what to expect.  I had no close friends that were parents.  I had little experience with babies.  I had been married barely a year, and having a baby was not in the original plan, so this was an unexpected development which I was still coming to grips with.  In short, I was afraid I wasn't up to the job, and I was scared.

But from the first moment I held my son in my arms, my world changed.  It was no longer about me, it was about him.  I remember looking at his perfect little face with wisps of dark, curly hair peeping out from under the newborn cap on his head and feeling this overwhelming rush of love, more powerful than anything I had ever felt before.  At that moment, there was no one else in the world besides him and me, and I was going to get this right.

I told him I would be the best mom I could possibly be for him - I would feed him and educate him and love him and hold him and he would never hear a harsh or angry word, because our relationship would be perfect.  (Hormones are powerful and I was obviously delusional at that point.)  I was resolved to build on what my own parents had gotten right and correct any mistakes, so I could do this parenting thing perfectly.

From the moment he was born, my son became my Sonshine, my reason to be.  He got me going every day, meeting his needs was my focus, and everything else receded in importance because he was my top priority.  I gazed at him as he slept, (much less than I had been told, which was my first clue he had not read the baby manual and this was not going to be as easy as I thought,) and marveled at this human being I had created inside my own body.  What a miracle he was, and is.

I think God must look at each of us in the same way, marveling at his handiwork, seeing a miracle in each one of us.  I think he dreamed of everything going exactly right, because he felt such a powerful, overwhelming love that he wanted us to have a perfect life.  Just as our hearts ache over our children's mistakes, I imagine our willful, sinful behavior must be a heartache and burden to him.  His desire to get us back on track so we can fulfill his ideal vision for us must be frustrated as we humans continue to get it wrong.

Today, I am grateful for my son.  He made me a much better person as his life changed mine completely.  He gave me a vision for the future that I would never have had without him.  My desire for him to have a perfect life has never changed, and his hurts continue to break my heart in a way that my own pain never could.  I think that through my son, I have seen a glimpse of my God and Creator, and I have a deeper understanding of his love for me.  I am a fortunate mom to have my son shining in my life.

Siblings

When my son was five years old, he came to me one day with a small figure made of blue Playdoh.  He handed me his creation, and said,

"Okay Mommy.  Here is my baby sister.  Blow air into her and make her alive."

He was so trusting, so sincere, so convinced that was all it required for him to have the baby sister he wanted so badly.  I think he must have heard the story of Adam and Eve, and figured if it was good enough for them, it would work for us, too.

It was difficult to explain to him that life requires more than Playdoh, and that as much as he wanted a baby sister, it was probably not going to happen.  Unbeknownst to him, I had suffered several miscarriages, and the likelihood of my carrying a baby to term was becoming remote.  I had given up, and I tried, as gently as I could, to help him give up his dream, as well.

No one could have been more surprised than I was to deliver a baby girl just a year later.  One of the most precious moments of my life was watching my son's face when he entered my hospital room after seeing her for the first time and hearing his little voice exclaiming, "She's ADORABLE.  Just ADORABLE."  His eyes were beaming, his smile was bigger than I have ever seen it before or since, and it was obvious his world was now complete.

I have photos of the day my family got me, and the expression on my brother's face was much the same.  Pride, joy, excitement, all mingled into one elated expression.  

My mother and father were both very close to their siblings, and they passed on a love for family that has traveled down through succeeding generations.  They made a point of getting together often, and they modeled successful siblinghood for all of us to emulate.

There is nothing like a sibling to share your life.  They are the only people who really understand your parents like you do and what life looks like from the inside of your family.  If you are fortunate, they share your memories, your hopes, your joys, your fears and your losses.  They are there in good times and in bad, not only for you, but for your children as well.

If you spend time with people who have dementia, siblings are among the last people they will forget.  There is something so integral about our siblings, so immediate, that even as we lose everything meaningful, they are still there in our minds.

Siblings are God's way of providing built in playmates.  They teach us to share, to negotiate, to accept, and ultimately to love in spite of our differences.  They are part of the platform from which we spring into the world of adulthood, for better or for worse.

Not all families are strong.  Sometimes the foundation is flawed, or crumbling.  Not everyone is fortunate in their family, and sometimes the sibling relationship is fractured, or even broken entirely.  For some people, their siblings will not be there to share the burden and hold their hand through good times and bad.  But even when the relationship is poor, you can learn and grow and benefit from the experience.

Today I am grateful for siblings.  I am grateful to have my brother to bounce things off of, to worry with me, to talk with and share life experiences.  I am equally thankful that my children love each other and share their lives, still close friends and confidants, even as adults living far apart.  God knew people needed companionship, so he provided siblings to walk through life with us.

Second chances...

Failure is a part of life.  We have all missed our goal and had things go wrong.  It is frustrating and creates hardship when we fall short, and usually means we will have to work extra hard to make up for what we got wrong in the first place.

But if we are lucky, we will have another opportunity to try again, to fix the flaw and right the wrong.  We take what we learned from the failure, and apply it to avoid making the same mistakes a second time.  Often the lessons we learn help to move us forward, and ultimately, play a role in our success.

Sometimes, of course, the stakes are bigger than others.  If we fail to get the trash out, the only consequence is an overflowing trash barrel.  But if we fail at parenting or marriage or our job, the consequences can be devastating.  It is harder to overcome the after effects of the larger failures, without a doubt.  But in these middle years of my life, I have come to understand that the successes are then that much more appreciated.  It doesn't exactly balance out, but it does help move me forward. In fact, much of my current optimism and faith were built on the greatest failures I have had.

Jesus lived without flaw or error.  He followed his proscribed path from birth to resurrection without hesitation or fault.  He left us detailed instructions on how to live well, and modeled his desires for us each and every day.  But he understood how human we are, and there was always room for forgiveness and renewal.  Because God was willing to be human with us, he knows the struggle, and he forgives every failure.

When asked, Jesus told his disciples to forgive not once, not three times, not seven times, but seventy times seven.  In an era where forgiveness was in short supply, and differences were not tolerated, this was unimaginable.  His message was always one of love and reconciliation, and he wanted us to understand that we are to forgive as we have been forgiven, endlessly and with love.

Today I am grateful for second chances.  It has brought me to a new life in every sense, both here on earth, and with my God in heaven.  Life is fleeting, but eternity is forever.  I am grateful that Jesus was willing to ransom my life with his and bring me to salvation.

Hair...

I have never had the gift for hair artistry.  I can just about manage a pony tail on a good day, but I am over-achieving if I shoot for anything fancier than that.  My daughter can do a messy bun and it looks classic, intentional and lovely.  My messy bun just looks... messy.  And it all goes downhill from there.

For many years I fought with my hair, struggling to control it and force it to do my will.  I would choose styles that I thought were cute or attractive, only to fall short, because my hair simply would not cooperate.  I have relatively course, naturally wavy hair, which, for some unknown reason, seems to be getting curlier and increasingly less manageable as I get older.  The styles I have always yearned for were more appropriate for people with fine, straight hair, which falls where it is supposed to and stays in place.  It is frustrating to be so out sync with my own desires.

Some years back, I finally clued in to my mistake.  I wanted styles that were wrong for my type of hair, and they were never going to work for me, no matter how hard I tried.  In other words, the problem, ultimately, wasn't my hair.  The problem was, in fact, me.

It was a revelation.  Once I identified the root problem, the answer was easy.  I stopped looking for precise cuts which required each hair to know its place, and went with styles which allow my thick, messy tresses to go where they want.  In short, I realized I had to let go of my unattainable desires and work with what I have been given, instead of trying to make it something it was never going to be.  And somehow, it finally looks exactly right.

My lack of understanding about what was realistic held me back from being the best version of me that I could be.  Insisting on having my own way was futile.  It distracted me from other, more important things that I could have been doing, and took a lot of time for no good purpose, because in the end, it didn't work out as I had planned, anyway.

I think my battle with my hair is a lot like life.  We so often get tied up with what we want or what we think should be, that we totally miss what is.

God created each one of us an individual, with our own set of traits, our own unique personality, and our own one-of-a-kind gifts.  Although we may be stretched and pulled at times, God has provided us exactly what we need to be the best version of ourselves.  We may fight and shove and want something different, but ultimately, God's plan is the only one that will work, because he is the Master Planner, and he is the one who is control.

Today, I am grateful for my unruly, out of control hair.  It is a constant, necessary reminder that I am not the one in charge.  God will allow me to struggle and even to have my own way, but it will never be fully right, because it's not the path God intended for me.  It is only when I am walking in his will that the journey will lead me to the cross, and his unending grace.

Freedom...

I have a cousin who has many things in common with me.  We grew up in the same town, attend the same church, and we share a lot of happy memories of time spent together with our extended family.   But he also differs from me in many ways.  He is a man, I am a woman.  He has never married and has no children, I have been married twice and have two children and a grandchild.  I go to work every day, he is retired.  He is very conservative, I am an independent with liberal leanings.

I am grateful to live in a country where differences are embraced, even when we disagree.  I am even more grateful that the cousin who is so different from me was willing to risk his life for the freedom I enjoy.  At great personal cost, he has ensured that I am able to disagree with him, openly and without fear.  What a gift he has given, not only to me, but to all of us.

Living in the United States, we take for granted the right to criticize our government.  It is a simple matter of turning on the news to see what the alternative looks like.  Refugees are fleeing countries where that is not a right by the thousands, giving up everything they have and hold dear, in order to live free from fear.

That is what freedom really is.  It is not about what we have.  It is about what we are free from.

Jesus ransomed our souls with his death and resurrection to free us from the consequences of our own sinful natures.  We are free of the worry of just penalty because of the price he paid.  

Today, I am grateful to live in a country where I am free from religious persecution.  I am able to worship as I choose, write this blog proclaiming my Christian faith every day, wear a cross openly and without fear, because men like my cousin were willing to risk their lives for my right to do so.

I am grateful to live in a country where I can criticize every action the government takes.  I can attend meetings, write to the paper, blog, post on facebook, and talk to friends and family, entirely without fear of the consequences of my openly held views.  I am grateful to my cousin, all my other relatives, and all others who have served our country so faithfully and so well.  They have given me the freedom to sit in my warm house and express myself however I choose, whenever I choose, without fear of retaliation.

It is easy to take our freedom for granted when we have known no other way of life.  But as the old saying goes, freedom is not free.  Whether it is our personal freedoms, or our eternal salvation, it was purchased at great price through the gracious goodness of someone else's sacrifice.  That is the greatest gift of all, and I am grateful every single day.

Work...

The first question asked upon meeting someone is often, "What do you do?"  Our job defines us for other people, it allows them to "place" us in an understandable box, gives us a role and definition in a world which is often confusing.

My current job was a gift from God, dropped out of heaven on a sunny fall afternoon, not in my time frame, but in his.  Having put my full faith and trust in him, I followed the path he set for me, and it led me to the place I needed to be right now.  I am fortunate to have my job, and I feel valued and appreciated in my work.  I serve a necessary function, and I think I do the tasks fairly well.  (My co-workers may not always agree, but I try!)

But does my job give insight into who I am as a person?  I have found over the years that what people do and who people are is frequently not the same thing at all.

For example, I spend my days answering the phone, waiting on customers and doing bookkeeping.  It would appear, from my position, that I am a lineal thinker, precise, number oriented, practical and social.

I think anyone who knows me well, however, would laugh at that description, because it is not the me they know at all.  On the contrary, I am a creative, flexible thinker, I hate the telephone and prefer texting, I am quite introverted, I zealously guard my personal space, and I am often forgetful because my mind is a million miles away.

Although I enjoy it most of the time, I would hate to be defined solely by my job, because that is such a small snapshot of who I am, and of my life work.  Although it takes the most time, it isn't even the most important work I do each day.

Spreading the message of my faith is the work of the Spirit.  Every moment I am alive, I have the opportunity to model and live out the love of the God who sustains and uplifts me, spreading the Good News of God's enduring and unconditional grace.  Although we may fall short of the goal, each of us is tasked with sharing our faith in whatever way we can, at all times, and in all places.

Today I am grateful to have a job which pays for the necessities of life.  And I am even more grateful to work for the Spirit, spreading the message of God's salvation wherever I can.  I am privileged to know where I am headed and what I will do when I get there, both in this life, and for all eternity.

Inspiration...

When people find out I am, in my own small way, a writer, it provokes some interesting reactions.  A lot of people ask me how I come up with so many different topics, then want to assist me in providing subjects for me to write about.  It is difficult to explain that writing is personal, individual, and my inspiration comes from my own life experience.  Usually I turn it around and encourage them to write about their own suggestion, because obviously it is something that is important to them, or they wouldn't have thought about it in the first place.  And that is the heart and soul of writing, finding something that you feel passionately about, then discussing it.

I don't normally worry about the source of inspiration for each blog.  It usually just comes to me, and so I write.  But I do have to be intentional about it to write for 40 days in a row, because I don't normally feel I have that much to share.  Over the last few weeks, as I have written each morning, I have had to genuinely consider what I wanted to write about each day.  I have had to think about why it is important, not just to me, but potentially to someone who might read my words, and what my experience might have to say to them to enhance their own Lenten journey.

I am inspired by other people's stories.  Knowing how other people have overcome hardship and pain or how they have succeeded at something new and different is reassuring and uplifting, because it makes me believe in myself and my ability to do the same.  I am gratified to know people are inspired by my story, as well, because I am pleased about who I have become as I have overcome the obstacles life has thrown in my path.

The root of inspire comes from the Latin word inspirare, meaning to breathe.  To draw breath, to excite the alveoli and pull vital oxygen into our bloodstream, is critical for living.

That is what happens when we are inspired.  We are drawn in.  We get excited.  We push past the present to think beyond where we are right now.  It makes life better, more interesting, more vivid.

Jesus inspired those whose lives he touched, as he continues to inspire us today.  He drew people to him, he caused them to rethink and change and grow and become something different.  His example inspires me to be the best version of me that I can be, each and every day, even when I continually fall short of the goal.

Today I am grateful for inspiration, both human and divine.  I am grateful for those people who force me to rethink, to reframe, to refresh, to be better and more and different.  And I am grateful for a Lord who provides the opportunities to stretch, to grow, to change and to renew myself in my spiritual journey.

The world needs more inspiration.  I think it starts with each one of us.

Prayer...

Prayer is a tricky thing.  In Matthew 21:22, we are told,

"And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith." ESV

But as we all know from personal experience, we can pray very fervently and still not receive what we ask for.  People die, divorces happen, jobs are lost, children are wayward, friendships are broken, homes are repossessed.  It is frustrating, disheartening, sometimes devastating, to speak and not feel heard by the God who has promised us he will answer us in our hour of need.  So how do we reconcile our asking with God's apparent rejection?

This is a stumbling block to faith for many.  Everyone has prayed for something and not felt heard, probably many times over.  The question of why is hard to answer, especially when we are limited by human vision, while God has no boundaries.

It is unsatisfying to us to be told "No" or "Not now."  It causes us to doubt the value of prayer when we feel unheard.  So why does God tell us to pray and we will receive when he clearly doesn't mean what we think it does?  All of the deepest wounds in my life, my father's early death, divorce, miscarriages, deaths of friends far too soon, all manner of needs, have been prayed over, fervently, but I did not receive the answer I was looking for, at least not in the way that I, as a human being, can understand.  Did I not pray hard enough?  Was I not sincere enough?  Should I have done something differently to achieve my desired outcome?

And yet, God's word is absolute.  He means what he says, and if I believe what the Bible tells me, if I believe in an all knowing, all powerful God, I must also believe that he hears and answers each prayer.  The conflict is difficult, sometimes impossible, to reconcile.

It has taken me many years to come to an answer I can live with, and it is still unsatisfying.  When we act on faith, when we pray as God intends, ultimately we pray for his will to be done.  His vision exceeds our limited understanding of how things should be, just as a parent can see far reaching consequences of a child's actions long before they realize what is happening.  By putting things in God's hands, we must accept that his judgement exceeds our understanding, and sometimes the answer will not be what we are hoping for.  I think it really is as simple as that.  God knows what we do not.

Prayer is a conversation with God.  It is a conduit to our all powerful, all knowing Creator.  He knows every grain of sand on the beach, and every hair on our head.  He surely knows the needs of our heart.  When we pray with pure intention, when we ask God to act with our best interests, or the best interests of someone else, in mind, the answer may be startling or unexpected, but it will always be right, because God does not make mistakes.

Today, I am grateful for prayer.  It gives me an ever present, ongoing path to God, my Savior and my friend.  Although I frequently puzzle over the answer, it gives me a small glimpse of his vision and a path towards his grace.  When I get to heaven, I will have questions to ask.  But while I am here, I will trust that God's understanding exceeds my limited expectations, and try to be content with the answer I get.

How Grand...

It turns out being a grandparent is sort of like the bonus round of parenting.  Even though you have a new model, the parts are more or less the same and the directions haven't really been revised all that much, so it is easier to relax and soak it all in without sweating the small details.  But at the same time, the problems, when they arise, are more complicated, and the answers are fewer and farther between.  When you are winning, there is absolutely nothing like it.  But when things go awry, it is excruciating in a whole new way.

Most people catch a cold or the 24 hour stomach flu.  Certain members of my family like to take that a little further.  We don't get colds, we go straight to pneumonia.  We don't get a 24 hour stomach bug, we are down for a week with The Flu.  We don't stub a toe, we break the whole foot.  You get the idea.

Unfortunately, the baby seems to have inherited the family penchant for medical drama. My infant grandson has been sick for days with his first real illness.  My daughter and son-in-law have handled the whole thing brilliantly.  They are calm, they are reassuring, they are doing exactly what they need to do in the situation.  They have taken wonderful care of the baby, and they are building bonds with each other as they negotiate the care of their sick child, who will certainly be on the mend in the next day or two.

I, on the other hand, am finding the whole thing rather difficult. I am 500 plus miles away, and watching my baby tend to her baby without being there to help has been... trying.  I cannot provide anything for her, other than a sympathetic ear and an occasional glance on Skype, which is wholly inadequate, as far as I am concerned.  (Please note, she is fine with this arrangement.  I am the one who is struggling with it all.)

I can offer a little experience, but without being there to assess for myself, I don't really know whether to panic or not.  (I do just out of habit, of course, but am trying to keep that to a minimum for my daughter's sake.  I do what I can to be helpful in these trying times.)

I knew, in an intellectual sense, that my grandson would be important to me.  But, just like becoming a parent, I didn't really comprehend how much he would become a part of me, to my very soul, and how much I would think about him and fret over him and enjoy having him in my world until he was here.  He has a unique and very special place in my universe, a place that no one else will ever hold.

Today I am grateful for my grandson.  He has changed the world for me, just by being in it.  He is renewal, refreshment and rebirth, all in one tiny, adorable package.  Bonus indeed!

Sunshine...

Winter in Minnesota can be long and hard.  The cold temperatures drive people indoors, you don't see your neighbors for months at a time, the snow is daunting to deal with, and worst of all, the gloom that seems to pervade the sky is depressing.  It is a harsh time of year, something I endure, but never enjoy.

Then, somewhere around the end of February, the cold lessens, the snow starts melting, and there is hope for warmer days ahead.  The sun will break through the clouds, shining its warm light on the earth, and brightening up the mood of nearly everyone.  The surly days of January are gone, and even if it snows, we all know spring is coming, and it is tolerable, because it's only for a day or two.

I know warmer days are on the horizon, flowers will soon be coming up, trees will have leaves, and the long, lazy days of summer will be upon us.  Spring is hopeful, and I see those late winter sunny days as the harbinger of hope.

Today I am grateful for the shining sun, melting the snow, and bringing the promise of summer.  It warms my heart and my soul, and reminds me that hope is ever present.  The God that created the sunshine knows all my needs.  The warm rays remind me that he is shining on me all the time.

Soul mate...

In the beginning God created Adam.  God intended this human, created in his own image, to be in relationship with God.  But he soon realized that this new creature needed another human to be complete, and so he created Eve.  Men and women have been confusing each other ever since.

The world needs men and women to be balanced.  We crave each other because we have strengths and weaknesses that compliment and supplement where the other is lacking.  Having a mix of people makes every situation fuller and more interesting, because we each bring our own perspective to the social table.

For most of us, that culminates in a relationship with that one special person, the one who completes the picture for us, fills in the blank spots, dulls the rough edges of life.  We know when it happens, that lightning strike moment when we suddenly see someone in a different way, and realize that we are no longer want to be without them.

Some people are fortunate and find that person early.  They spend their lifetime together, growing and maturing and working towards the common goals that will get them where they want to be.  Some people come to it later, when life has taken its toll.  But whenever it comes, your life changes, and you are made new in your relationship with that person.  Anything is possible, everything is possible.  Most people have had that experience, and it is wonderful.

Although each relationship is different, God created us for our soul mate.  He has a perfect match for us, even when we are imperfect, and if we let him lead us, we will eventually find that person that fills our heart in a way no one else can.

Today I am grateful for my soul mate.  He has brought joy and laughter and love into a heart that had big holes in need of repair.  He fills my spirit with comfort, and fills my soul with shared faith.  God knew what I needed before I did, and led me straight home.

Enduring love...

Love comes in many forms.  We love our parents, and they love us.  We love our siblings, and are loved in return.  We love our spouse, our children, and our friends.  We love pets, we love music, we love art or math or history.  We love food or wine or sandy beaches.  Love is found in an endless array of manifestations, each one important to the person feeling the emotion.

As I have matured, however, I have found that the most satisfying love is the one that you can count on no matter what life throws your way.  Whether happy or sad, love improves the outlook.  Experiencing an event with someone who loves you fully deepens both the love and the experience.

There is no time frame for enduring love.  It can happen in an instant, as you make a lifelong connection with someone, or it can take many years of building.  But when you have that love between you, there is confidence born of assurance that you can be fully yourself and accepted as you are.  There is nothing more satisfying than being loved, flaws and all, by someone who sees you clearly.

God loves us purely, compassionately, wholly for ourselves.  Jesus, God in human form, loved many people in his time on earth.  His love for his mother and his friends, and their love for him, is written through all his Biblical stories.  That it was so important for him is a testament to the importance of the support and uplift it provides for us as we make our way through this confusing life.  His love is the model for our love, and we are told to love one another as he has loved us.  Although we are human and imperfect, and we fall short, it is a goal to strive for.

Love does not always come with crashing cymbals and fireworks lighting up our universe.  Sometimes it sneaks up on us, stealing our hearts with quiet certitude that it is right. But however it comes, it is necessary, vital for happiness and joy in this world.  Sharing the experience of living is the human manifestation of God's love for us.

Today, I am grateful for enduring love.  The safety net it provides gives me peace and shelter in the face of an ever changing world, and I see God in each moment I spend with those who love me the most.  In today's fractured world, I am reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the divided people of Corinth, 

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love."

Parents...

God created us male and female, a matched set, meant to face life together as a support for one another.  Never is this more true than in child rearing, that toughest of love jobs in life.  Taking a helpless infant and bringing them to adulthood is an arduous task.  It is one that is meant to be shared, a joint experience, uplifting each other's strengths while standing in the gap for the weaknesses of your partner.

My parents were ideal partners.  They each had their role, which they fulfilled joyfully and fully. They were united in purpose and ideals, and they worked together to bring us up to be decent people, adults with faith and values and a strong work ethic.  Day to life was filled with hard work, but they also had a lot of fun together, and with us.  We laughed, played games, talked over dinner, enjoyed our extended family and took many trips around the country to see and learn and experience the world in unexpected ways.

Even when that earthly partnership ended with the death of my father much too soon, my mother continued on their set path.  She struggled with the unfamiliar parts of her new role as single parent, filling in where she could, and allowing me to miss what my father brought to the relationship where she couldn't.

Their partnership inspired me in many ways.  They taught me about living in harmony with each other, how to listen to one another's needs and wants, how to honor someone without necessarily agreeing with every word, how to be intentional in a loving relationship.  I was among the most fortunate of people - we didn't have a lot of money, but they had goals and aspirations and they were willing to sacrifice to make them happen.  They taught me life skills I use to this day, and tried to instill in my own children, as well.

Today I am grateful for my parents.  God saw how great my need was, and he gifted me with the perfect pair of people to entrust with my life.  Pure grace.

Food...

It is easy to take for granted the wide variety of foods available to us today.  With refrigerated transport, nothing is ever truly "out of season" any more.  We can have apples year round, grapefruit whenever we want, fresh tomatoes and garlic and onions and potatoes whenever we go to the grocery store.  We can find tropical fruits grown on the other side of the world, fresh meat in the butcher shop, and whatever else we want, for a price that is amazingly affordable.

When you get sick, when you have trouble eating, it brings home what a blessing it is to have a wide variety of delicious foods available.  So many people live life constrained by their inability to eat.  While life is sustainable through other means, it enhances the quality of living to be able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want it.

This morning, I am short of my usual morning food.  I am a creature of habit, and every morning, I start my day the same way.  Without my usual breakfast, my day is less bright.  Although it seems like a small thing to not have the usual start to my day, it is a big thing in my life.

Today, we have the ability to eat foods from all over the world on a whim.  It is an amazing part of living in the 21st century, and I am truly grateful.

Small moments...

We live in a world of great uncertainty.  Everything is changing, and the solid foundation I grew up with has shifted and is now unfamiliar.  I find the larger world a confusing, disordered mess, and I am worried about what the future holds for the next generation.

But in the final analysis, the big stuff, the issues the media tell us are important and worth paying attention to, count for very little in my life.  My life is made up of small moments, shared with the people I care about, and that is all that really matters to me.

Dinner with my mother on Wednesday night.  My dog curling up next to me while I sip my morning coffee.  Sitting in my warm jammies in front of the fireplace.  A yummy meal shared with my husband.  Moments of fun spent with my friends.  Happy times with my children and grandchild.  These are the things which define the life I lead.

As the political rhetoric ramps up, the terrorists continue to spread their evil, the moral fiber of the country shifts on the quicksand of the current times, I am grateful for the small moments that are so important to my quality of life.  They may not change the world, but they make my little corner of it a better place to exist.

Books...

I cannot go everywhere, do everything, see it all.  I am limited by time, money and energy.  But even as a child, out on the farm, I saw the world.  My eyes were opened to new ways of thinking, my mind was expanded, my vision was changed, because every time I opened the cover of a book, it changed my world.

Today, we have the internet to bring the world to our laptop.  But I still love to hold a book in my hand.  I love the feel of the pages, I enjoy the scent of the paper as I crack the cover, I love to see the words on the pages.  They represent possibility, unlimited options, freedom of thought and expression.

I am a reader.  I am the child who got into trouble for picking up a book instead of the duster or the dish towel, hiding under the covers with a flashlight because I couldn't put the book down, going off into my own little corner of the world to read in peace because the words were irresistible.

"To Kill a Mockingbird" literally changed my understanding of the world.  My mind was opened, and I could never go back to thinking the same way again.  National Geographic changed how I viewed other ways of living.  I understood that not everyone lives as I do, and that not everyone wanted to, and it was okay.  Every book I have opened over the years has impacted my understanding of life, and each and every one has changed me.

The most important book I have ever read is the Bible.  It has given me a path for my life, a road map for the journey, and an understanding of my personal relationship with God that has lasted a lifetime.  Even when the relationship has been strained, there has been a foundation that never failed me.

Today I am grateful for books.  They changed my world, and opened my eyes, and my life is far better because of it.