It’s Holy Week.
A week of remembering the moments surrounding the single-most important person and event in all of human history: Jesus.
Life. Death. Burial. Resurrection.
A week to remember the everything before and after and to rejoice that we can now live from the center of
“It is finished!”
Yesterday, my youngest and I occupied a pew in the little Episcopal church here in town for the first of five services our community will host this week. Today we’ll be at the Methodist church. It’s one of the many things I’ve come to love about this small country town. One week out of the year we gather in one another’s churches before God, united in the Spirit to worship our Lord and Savior; Jesus. How beautiful is the body of Christ.
In the brief moments before the service began, I recalled this time from years before and was filled with so much peace and joy for the life in Christ I have today. Because I was remembering how just 4 short years ago, I sat in a pew alone, sin sick and heart damaged by so much pain and confusion.
Everything I thought I knew about all I thought I could depend on was falling apart and crumbling beneath my feet. I was lost amidst my own shattered illusions of what it means to be a minister of the Gospel, a woman, a wife, mother, sister and friend.
I’d come face to face with my own empty definitions, which somehow had become detached or maybe had never been truly attached to their meaning in Christ. I was a lost sheep in crisis and didn’t know if I’d ever find my way back home.
I didn’t know where home could be found and mine……… was falling apart.