Maundy Thursday is here.

Tonight @ 7 PM at Providence House, I’ll be leading a small group of folks through a guided prayer thing to help us enter into Maundy Thursday with Jesus. If you can’t join us, you can snag the audio on The In Process Collective resource page and do the experience at home.

It is Maundy Thursday, more than any other day, where I find myself in Your suffering and I am convinced of the incomparable strength of Your love. This day a couple a thousand years ago You were staring down Your worst fears.

A few eternities or whatever before then, before the foundation of the ground beneath my feet and the air around me was manifest into reality – You thought me up.

And all the days to come were in your mind when You did that. You knew what I would cost. You knew the weight of wrath and the shackles of shame that would fall upon You in order to let my soul break free from the binds and bonds that my fathers’ fathers’ fathers’ father’s fathers had sold me into.

Friday we remember that cost. And Sunday we celebrate Your victory. But today is the day we remember the day that proves Your love to me as profoundly as anything could.

Because I know the agony of anticipation. I know that my greatest enemy is not wrath or pain or shame, but the anticipation of all these things. And I do not know what You felt that night, but I know enough to imagine how long and dark those hours must have felt.

I do not know this love: to sit and stare down at the cup coming for You, and to face shame and death for no prize other than the glory of rescuing me from the same fate; to endure those long dark lonely hours, so that thousands of years later, when these lungs breathed their first breath, You could whisper to me promises to be there for me for every minute of every day and let me live inside a time where all your promises are yes.

Out of the anguish of your soul on that Thursday you looked up, you saw and were satisfied.

You saw me. You saw the glory of the Father displayed in my inclusion at your banquet and my adoption as a daughter, and despite all the agony, all the anguish, it was prize enough for you to walk forward.

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