Grace

Good Friday found me distracted by work postponed, emails not sent, and other nagging voices, all my own.  As I drove across the bridge, I started thinking that maybe after leading worship this morning, I might not go to a Good Friday service but rather come home.  Get something done.

 

However, the service I led was at a long term memory care community that I deeply love. As we talked of life and death and resurrection and the rolling away of the stones to set our own love free (yes, these kinds of conversations do happen in memory care), I suddenly felt deep gratitude.  Not only for the beloved community that gathered with me, but for Jesus.  In that moment, I remembered that if it were not for Jesus, I probably not be standing among these people I love.  I would not be hearing their songs and their laughter; I would not  be hearing their beautiful voices when we say the Lord's prayer together.          

 

I decided to go to the Good Friday service. It was beautiful, and at least for a few minutes I was able to lay my burdens at the foot of the cross and weep, something I do not do enough of.   And again, I felt gratitude for this wondrous, timeless love  that continues to hold us together, even when it seems we are completely falling apart.    

 

Thank you, Jesus.  I think I am just about ready for Easter.