She was wronged. She was misunderstood. She was disliked and even disowned. However, she no longer took her pain to the people, but The Promiser. That is growth. That is grace. That is the power of Christ Jesus! We already have victory, friends. We no longer need to fight for it! You are loved!
Every year around Easter time I reflect on the amazing truth that after Jesus’ crucifixion came His resurrection. When I think about what that sealed for me, I cannot help but rejoice. It was the genesis of the greatest hope the world had ever known. A displaced stone and an empty tomb ushered into eternity new life for followers of King Jesus; securing victory over death, guilt, shame, fear, and condemnation. How wonderful that news is for you and me!
The resurrection of Jesus handed us a priceless gift including all the assets we need to live a joyful life. But I would be remiss if I also did not take the time to ask myself honestly, Today, am I living in the darkness of Jesus’ crucifixion or the light of His resurrection?
Often fear is a frequent “friend.” Sin is my sneaky shadow and circumstances can hollow my heart of hope. This life can easily conform me into a pattern of crucifixion living when I neglect the conditions of my head and my heart. May we never forget the crucifixion, friends; but we must remember Jesus did not die for us to get stuck there. He did not die for us to live small defeated lives. Yes, all stories have seasons of suffering, and many do not end well. It is only the stories of believers living under the resources of a selfless Savior that have the certainty of happy ever after.
I will be honest. I long for this life to look like a Hallmark movie. When I am persisting horizontally, I am defeated by my desire. It is only when my eyes are fixed vertically on Jesus, and I am persevering out of the provisions secured by His resurrection that I can live a victorious life because I know how my story ends and there is a big red bow on top!
Lord Jesus, thank you for procuring paradise for me. I pray that I along with all your children would remember the royalties afforded by your resurrection. May we cast off the weights of crucifixion living, and rest under the shelter of your resurrection. We love you, Lord. Thank you for loving us enough to ensure what we could never do for ourselves. I ask that you would grant us the grace to live from the promises of the resurrection, not just during the Easter season, but through all seasons. Amen.
Carter had his first of three appointments with the vision doctor yesterday. We were there two hours; it felt like five. It was a long afternoon, and very taxing for him physically, and ultimately emotionally.
I think it is difficult in any situation to not form expectations in our heads. This holds true in happy scenarios and difficult ones. Our pictures, which are very often our own worst enemies, can be thieves of peace when they develop differently than how they looked from behind the lens of our vision.
I went into yesterday’s appointment knowing there were visual issues; I just didn’t realize the extent and multitude of them. It honestly felt like the air had been sucked out of my sails, as I was not prepared.
I know many of you moms know this and live this every day, when you hear a doctor tell your child something like, “I know you don’t much joy in your life right now, and it may be that way for a while,” that is heart breaking! Even harder, I am forty-two. I can reason and find gratitude amidst the grief. For a fifteen year old boy, that is an arduous task, further clouded by the effects of a head injury.
Sometime after we got home from Oregon, I found a white, small bag in my laundry room. I didn’t know what it was or where it came from. We had very little luggage, and I never saw it in Carter’s hospital room or in any of our bags. I have no idea how it got in my laundry room. When I opened it up, it smelled awful, and I immediately knew it was something that had been wet, and in that bag for a long time. Upon pulling it out, I felt my heart rise to the top of my throat, and sink with a hard painful plunge into the depths of my stomach.
It was the swimsuit Carter was wearing when his accident happened. It was shredded and frayed because it had been cut off his body. I cannot adequately describe the intense infusion of opposite emotions at that moment as I sunk to the cold, hard ground. It was like being pulled between intimidating agony and intense appreciation. I cried and then I rejoiced right there on the uninviting but accommodating laundry room floor.
My first thought was to throw that swimsuit away, but for a reason I then did not understand, I could not do it. I washed it, folded it and put it on my laundry room shelf. It is in a spot that I see it every time I go in that room, which is frequent. Now and then I pick it up and hold it close to me. Each time I do this, the frayed, rough edges that are image bearers of the sharp edges that grazed them catch my eye. I keep being drawn to their messy appearance that is a remnant of the trauma that ensued.
It occurred to me one day that those edges keep beckoning my attention because they represent something important. That battered swimsuit is a great representation of both tragedy and triumph. It makes me think of what Jesus’ robe must have looked like at the end of his journey which would also illustrate great despair, but not void of eternal hope.
Life is kind of like Carter’s fragmented swimsuit. Sometimes things cut us up, unravel our plans and leave us feeling weary and worn, but when we live in the shadows of a Savior, we are never without hope, and we are ensured an ultimate victory. That is great news that we continue to rest in daily!
We continue to covet your prayers for healing friends. I am grateful and encouraged by all of you. Thank you from the deepest places of my heart.
