Wrapping up Lent & the meaning of today

I’m writing this sitting at a bar in a diner. Next to me there is an older lady, drinking her coffee alone.  She’s looking around, smiling gently at others, not desperate for conversation, but not avoiding it.  She has nothing in her hands except her mug.

I, on the other hand, have a coffee, my phone, my kindle and my laptop all at my fingertips.  All available. All ready to ease me out of any discomfort that might come from being here alone on Easter Sunday.  What is it about us that is so uncomfortable at the thought of sitting, alone without distraction in a public setting.  Fear of boredom?  I think not.  I think it’s fear of being uncomfortable, fear of embarrassment; shame.

Lent 26-29: faith full

Well, good day my friends.

You know what I’m thinking about today?  Faithfulness.  Being filled with faith.  And how strange it is that we reduce that word to law keeping.  Like – Joe is faithful.  Meaning, Joe does what he says he’s going to and  he doesn’t mess up.  We can trust him to do what he says, because he’s faith-full.

What if being trustworthy is a fruit of faithfulness, but not faithfulness itself?

May they be secure who love you

May they be secure who love you.

It’s a proverb and a prayer and a hope – thrown upwards to a God who hears.

But it’s also just a logical and obvious conclusion. Those who love you will be secure.

We want Your words to work like a magic spell: squeeze our eyes shut and say it over and over again until we feel secure.  But Your words are – like you – unfailingly clear, crisp and perfect with no haze of sorcery around them.  They are just the truth. Heaven sent to lead us.

My terrifying treasure

My computer battery has 13% as I start to write this blog post.

Reason says to wait until it is charged.  Logic says that I have a folder of drafts that I could share with you.  My common sense says that the thought I want to share is not fleshed out enough, not polished enough to share in this brief moment, (not when only 10% remains now.)

But I can’t breathe in and out right now without a catch in my breath at the glory of the Gospel.

This truth we call the Gospel – guys – it is insane. Offensive. Confusing. Terrifying.

Just this

Just this, fabs.

This is all you have to do right now.  Be. And sit. And rest. And wait.

You don’t have to do tomorrow yet. Just slow down and stop scrambling to get ahead of whatever might be around the corner.  There are hard things there for sure.  Tomorrow holds challenges and obstacles, but today has obstacles enough of its own: starting with the challenge to be in today and not tomorrow.

You don’t have to do yesterday, with all its bumps and bruises and pain and failure and frustrations – that is not what you have to do today.  You just have to do this moment. Maybe how you feel about yesterday is a part of this moment, but yesterday itself is gone.