Truthfully I wish I could tell you I haven't been writing because life has been so busy being lovely and full of beauty and fabulous things.
Life is rough.
Yet He is still showing me and teaching me... even when I don't necessarily want to see Him or learn.
On Sunday as I cooked dinner on the grill I walked over to talk to my dog as she was erhm demanding some attention from the fence. As I walked by our less than kept flower bed I thought I saw something shine.
Ignoring it I kept walking.
After a few minutes doting on Sami I walked back toward the grill.
Again...something shiny within the rocks caught my eye and I stopped.
There in the middle of the rocks was a shiny round stone.
A red stone.....
I struggle with hope.
When do I hope for something? When do I give up that hope and just move on?
How do I know when my hopes are the same as His?
Those questions have stirred in my heart often.
As I have pondered over the events that occurred during this week so many years ago I have though of Jesus and his humanity.
In particular I have thought of that scene in the Garden. That scene that now I see as a man, not God, struggling with the task ahead of Him.
A man who fully understood the feelings of hopelessness and confusion and frustration and weariness and pain.
Yet He believed in His Father and His Father's love. He trusted Him to make this right. For it all to come together and be the perfect plan.
Tonight because of my own error I had to make a very late errand run.
As I drove I talked with Him and told Him of how I felt and why and I just laid it out there...again.
Quietly I hear....Christy, did you think that red stone was a coincidence?
I sat there... thankful for the stop light and wondered what He could be trying to tell me.
Slowly it came.
With blood the highest random was paid.
With blood rescue came.
With blood hope was restored.
With blood love was found.
With blood we are made whole.
I thought of that Friday night so many years ago.
Of all those who loved Him and did not understand.
He was dead.
Hope was gone.
Rescue was impossible.
Love was lost.
Brokenness for them all.
How hopeless they must have felt that night.
I know something they did not.
Something I have a tendency to forget.
Sunday IS HERE.
He was resurrected.
He defeated death.
He was ALIVE.
He IS alive.
Their hope was restored.
Their rescue came.
Their brokenness mended.
Their love found.
And what is so amazing is they had no idea....that was just the beginning!
Even though it was 11:30 when I got home I went out to the flower bed and grabbed that red stone.
And I held it tightly in my hand and I thanked Him. For His suffering, His sacrifice, and His unending love.
So while I might think things are hopeless and I feel like His followers that Friday night.
I am clinging to the knowledge that He understands and trusting He will make this right.
It may not be the right I want but it will be the one I need.
I remember the Cross this week.
I remember the tomb.
I remember the nail scarred hands that Thomas had to touch to believe.
I remember He lives.
And I remember....there is hope.