thelifeididntchoose

HOLY WEEK 2019: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

It is tempting to forget that there were three long days and nights between the crucifixion and the resurrection beause the way we observe this season rushes us past the pain to embrace the promise.

But it’s not hard for me to imagine how the disciples felt when they saw Jesus was dead. It was neither what they expected nor what they prayed for.

There were many points in the story when things could have gone a different way:

When taken by the religious leaders-surely, they thought, He will explain Himself, they will let Him go.
When taken before Pilate-Rome will refuse to get involved with our spiritual squabbles, Pilate won’t authorize His death.
When presented to the crowd-no Jew would rather have a wicked murderer released instead of a humble, healing Rabbi.

At every turn, every expectation they had for a “happy ending” was dashed to the ground.

Read the rest here: Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

HOLY WEEK 2019: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday

“On the one hand Death is the triumph of Satan, the punishment of the Fall, and the last enemy. Christ shed tears at the grave of Lazarus and sweated blood in Gethsemane: the Life of Lives that was in Him detested this penal obscenity not less than we do, but more.
On the other hand, only he who loses his life will save it. We are baptized into the death of Christ, and it is the remedy for the Fall. Death is, in fact, what some modern people call “ambivalent.” It is Satan’s great weapon and also God’s great weapon: it is holy and unholy; our supreme disgrace and our only hope; the thing Christ came to conquer and the means by which He conquered.”

~C.S. Lewis, Miracles

Bury a child and suddenly the death of Christ becomes oh, so personal. The image of Mary at the foot of the cross is too hard to bear.

Read the rest here: Remember: Why Good Friday Matters as Much as Resurrection Sunday

Holy Week 2019: Maundy Thursday

Today is the day on the church calendar when we pause and reflect on the Last Supper, and the last words of Jesus to His disciples.

A year’s worth of sermons is contained in John 13-17 but this week I have been drawn to just one verse:

[Jesus said] “Now I am giving you a new command—love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another. This is how all men will know that you are my disciples, because you have such love for one another.”

John 13:34 PHILLIPS

Read the rest here: Maundy Thursday

Holy Week 2019: Sorrow Lifted As Sacrifice

In some liturgical Christian traditions, today is the day the church remembers and honors Mary anointing the feet of Jesus with expensive and rare perfume.

It was a beautiful act of great sacrifice as the perfume would ordinarily be a family treasure broken and used only at death for anointing a beloved body.

It’s also an expression of deep sorrow because somehow Mary knew.

Mary. Knew.

So she poured out her precious gift on the One Who loves her most.

Tears are my sacrifice.

Holy Week Reflections: Sorrow Lifted as Sacrifice

Holy Week 2019: Clearing Our Own Temples

Growing up in church I was always taught the story of Jesus clearing the Temple of money changers from a couple of perspectives. One, that He experienced and expressed righteous anger-as distinct from most of our own selfish human anger; and two, that doing business in God’s sanctuary was a no-no.

As I got older and began studying Scripture for myself without all the cues provided in Sunday School booklets for how I should be interpreting the verses, I came to a little different understanding of this very familiar passage.

Read the rest here: Holy Week Reflections: Clearing Our Own Temples

Holy Week 2019: Making Space for Brokenness at the Table of the LORD

As we enter the week on the Christian calendar when most churches celebrate the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ, I am reminded that often we race past the road that lead to Calvary and linger at the empty tomb.

But to understand the beauty of forgiveness and the blessing of redemption, we MUST acknowledge the sorrow of sin and the burden of brokenness.

When our sacred spaces draw boundaries around what we can bring to the Lord’s Table, we exclude the very ones who are desperate for the bread and cup.

Read the rest here: Making Space for Brokenness at the Table of the LORD

Bitterness Is A Terrible Legacy

Oh, how easy it would be to become bitter!

If I’m honest, part of me just wants to tell the world to “Get lost!”.

But the wiser part of me knows that’s neither a helpful nor healthy response to even this most awful burden of child loss.

Lament is how we bring our sorrow to God. Without lament, we won’t know how to process pain. Silence, bitterness, and even anger can dominate our spiritual lives instead.
~Mark Vroegop – Dark Clouds Deep Mercy

Because my bitter spirit wouldn’t stop with me. It would spread like kudzu on an Alabama roadside.

The writer of Hebrews warns against this very thing:

Be careful that none of you fails to respond to the grace which God gives, for if he does there can very easily spring up in him a bitter spirit which is not only bad in itself but can also poison the lives of many others.
Hebrews 12:15 PHILLIPS

There is sufficient grace for even this.

But I can refuse it.

It’s a choice every single day.

Do I embrace the grace God freely offers or do I turn my back and embrace bitterness? Do I lean in to every promise of God in Christ or do I listen to the enemy of my soul who whispers, “Did God REALLY say….?”

Woman hands praying with a bible in a dark over wooden table

Bitterness never ends with one person. It spreads. It grows.

It ruins lives and relationships and generations.

We all know families where it has taken root. We all know old folks whose faces are frozen in frowns and who rarely speak except to pass along their spiteful comments.

I may not get many things right. I’m pretty sure I get quite a few things wrong.

But I don’t want to mess this one up.

Bitterness is a terrible legacy.

I refuse to pass it on.

lifetime of unexplored resentments brene brown

Repost: Lessons in Grief-Learning to Listen

I admit it: I’m a fixer.

It’s probably genetic (won’t mention any names!) but it has been reinforced by training and life experience.

When faced with a difficult or messy situation, my mind instantly rolls through an inventory of available resources and possible solutions.

And I tended to cut people off mid-sentence with my brilliant (?) plan to save the day.

But there are things you just can’t fix.

Read the rest here: Lessons in Grief: Learning to Listen

Five Years of Faithfulness

For my fellow Christ followers, my early morning post may have been a disappointment.

We’re all schooled in the “right” things to say in the midst of a trial, aren’t we?

“God is good!”

“I know the end of the story!”

“Death doesn’t have the last word!”

And on, and on, and on….

True. Every single one of them.

And yet…

If we are honest (and often we are not, because spiritual honesty is absolutely underrated in the church) we will also have to admit that KNOWING all those things doesn’t minimize pain.

It only makes it tolerable.

But I don’t want leave anyone doubting for one minute that God has been faithful these past five years.

He most certainly HAS.

He has been a silent Source of hope and strength and breath and grace. He has lifted my head when I couldn’t do it myself. He has sent His faithful flock to minister to my needs and the needs of my family. He has held me when I would have let go.

I have wrestled and questioned and even shouted but I’ve never, ever doubted He was here.

I wish I could tell you that there was some super-spiritual moment when He assured me of Dominic’s safety in Heaven, but there hasn’t been.

I wish I could tell you of a morning when His love and assurance and Presence washed over me to take away the angst, but I can’t.

What I can say is that the Word I hid in my heart before this awful pain was also lodged there has been enough. That deep well of living water has been more than adequate to quench my thirsty soul. The torch of truth has been sufficient light along even this black-as-night path.

My faith is still just that-faith.

I don’t have special revelation nor an extra dose of grace.

I’m just following my Shepherd, trusting that He will lead me Home.

How Can It Be Five Years??!!

We all experience it from time to time-that moment when your head comprehends that life has kept going but your heart refuses to keep pace.

So today, I’m looking at a calendar that assures me it has been five years since that deputy knocked on my door.

It’s a fact.

My heart says, “It cannot be true. It cannot be that long since I saw my living, breathing son cross the threshold of our family home. It cannot be that long since I made the phone calls that still echo in my ears. It can. not. possibly. be. that. long.”

And yet it is.

If folks ask me how I’m doing, how my family is doing, I usually say we are OK.

Because, all things considered, we ARE.

None of us find daily life unmanageable. None of us have fallen prey to addiction or unhealthy coping mechanisms. None of us sit inside all day, moping and mourning the loss of a life we couldn’t hold onto even if we had seen it slipping away in time to take a firmer grip.

But we are absolutely, utterly, profoundly CHANGED.

I often think back to old Star Trek episodes that showed crew members transporting to the surface of an unknown planet. Their bodies were broken down into the tiniest component molecules and reassembled somewhere else.

I think that’s what this life is like.

We’ve all been disassembled and reassembled.

But instead of everything falling back into place, there are missing bits here and there, gaps too small for others to see but very, very real to us. Connections lost. Memories without proper context.

Feelings floating free of any anchor, bubbling up at the most inconvenient moments.

And we all just plain MISS HIM.

We miss Hector Dominic DeSimone and who he is, what he brought to the table and car rides and family gatherings.

We miss who we were before we knew loss that burrows deep in your bones. We miss the unmitigated joy and celebration we could toss around like confetti at the slightest provocation.

So today, unlike most days, we will give in to the sorrow. We will remember that morning. We won’t brush away the tears or the sad memories.

He is worth every second and every heartache.

He is never forgotten.

He is always, always on our minds.