I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to sit down and write out what I’m thinking about the last month or week or few days. But a few things lay at the forefront so I want to write them before anymore time passes
2 things, then on to the most improtant things.
My Aunt Teenie made an easter bunny cake Sunday, as she traditionally used to do for my Dad & Great Uncle who’s birthdays are a day apart, April 19th & 20th respectively… It was a Butter cake, it was the best cake ever and I promise you that even if Betty Crocker tried to box it up and sell it it would never be like hers. Good Southern Home cooking can’t be replicated or produced outside of Georgia 🙂
That was a nice part of the good Sunday I shared with my extended family… Good memory material.
This last Saturday we were cooking all day to be ready for Sunday & Grace asked me if she could make Lemonade. I said I would make it after the cooking was done. She said, “No, I need to learn to make the lemonade in case I’m ever separated from all of you, I need to know how to make lemonade for myself if I’m all alone.” She’s also learned to make eggs, probably for the same reason. Or maybe it’s just because she thinks shes the oldest 8 year old around.
I watched the Passion of the Christ this Easter & as I lay there on the floor my eyes watering and occasionally closing to block the view of the beatings, the lashings & all the blood that tore apart the body of Jesus these things where going thru my mind ::
First, the fact that someone complained to me the other day and thought they shouldn’t show The Passion in a church because it was so graphic. And I said, “People are willing to watch graphic, violent movies everyday, Christians even do, because they have forgotten there’s a difference between the church & the world. Why shouldn’t we sit through the pain of what He sacrificed?” So as not to be a hypocrite, I sat through it.
By His stripes we are healed – as I watched the whip tear His skin
Nothing but the blood of Jesus – All of that blood was shed with a purpose,
He was bruised for our transgressions – I was thinking about how flippantly we sing, practice, sway & smile to our worship songs, happily and peacefully singing He was bruised for our transgressions…on Sunday’s and Wednesdays instead of worshiping with our life, which is what His sacrifice for us deserves.
He was a blameless man – He never sinned, we sin everyday.
He lived a holy life – We don’t even think about holiness in our day to day. Our laziness, sometimes disguised as a fear of legalism, or living by grace keeps us safely in the comfort zone of the status quo And never requires the discomfort of an attempt at sacrifice, much less a radical, abnormal, no-compromise walk.
He knew all about us and yet he chose to love us enough to die for us. That is enough for me. Unconditional, undeserved love. I am not perfect, He knows that, He accepts that, despite His perfection
Also, Mary, I know people have their doctrines, Catholic, non-Catholic, Protestant, etc. I don’t care about the differences. And I don’t care if people criticized Mel Gibson for the “Catholic slant” he gave the story. Mary was a part of the story, and watching her struggle for and with her Son, the Son of God… Resonated with me. Her intercession for and with her God, her Son is supposed to be part of our walk. Everything God put in the story is there for a reason.
And last but not least, or to sum up most of what I felt… He was a perfect man, something none of us can even attempt, and He took the punishment we deserve, every wrong spot in my heart was flashing before me as I watched the crucifixion. All the little sins we like to call our weaknesses & flaws or mistakes… Those things are the reason that an innocent man, never mind that He was God incarnate, it’s enough for me that He was pure, spotless and holy and He loved me enough to die in my place… but I didn’t feel guilt as much as I felt something that can only be described as awe or an overwhelming love. He knew every part of me and chose to love me. He knew every part of each of us & made that choice. That will never get old to me.