How true it is that when we know nights of sorrow, when weeping is all we can muster, that daybreak does eventually come as it always has. And with the rising of the sun, perhaps our tears are replaced with at least some measure of inner joy.
The universe is wide and wondrous, full of love, full of grace, and sparked by freedom. Those three—love, grace and freedom—are the things we most need, all of us.
I offer you this meditation, praying that you are surrounded in love, that you know the grace that accepts every part of yourself, and that you feel the the freedom to run with the wind in wide and wondrous places, toward your dreams.
As you continue the quiet time you claim for yourself today, I hope you will be be inspired and comforted by this beautiful choral piece by the brilliant composer Elaine Hagenberg, ”All Things New.”
Poem by Frances Havergal and text adapted from Revelation 21:5-6
Light after darkness, gain after loss Strength after weakness, crown after cross; Sweet after bitter, hope after fears Home after wandering, praise after tears
Alpha and Omega Beginning and the end He is making all things new Springs of living water Shall wash away each tear He is making all things new ​ Sight after mystery, sun after rain Joy after sorrow, peace after pain; Near after distant, gleam after gloom Love aftеr wandering, life after tomb
There are days! Don’t you have those troublesome days when feeling good about yourself seems impossible? I am guessing we all have those days, because there are just too darn many things about ourselves we don’t feel very good about. What are those things? you might ask.
“I missed that deadline.” “I was too irritable with the kids.” “I hate my hair.” “I have gained far too much weight.” “I have made a mess of my life.”
The list of what we don’t like, or even what we loathe, about ourselves can be a long one, and when we ponder such a list for very long, we can develop a skewed image of ourselves. Fortunately, many of us have been able to see that the person we really are can be measured on many levels, far more important levels than, say, appearance. Maturity helps, and aging has a way of putting all that negative ”stuff” about me in a box that I keep locked. And the key, well, I threw that key in a river!
What’s left is definitely a healthier perspective that allows me to look at myself in different ways and to make kinder conclusions. I have learned over decades that my image of myself is important, that I have to see my self with accepting eyes and that self-deprecating thoughts have the power to bring me to the edge of despondency.
. . . aging has a way of putting all that negative “stuff” about me in a box that I keep locked. And the key, well, I threw that key in a river!
kmf
Still those days come, bringing me a boatload of reasons to detest myself. There is a certain season of life in which self-flagellation is downright dangerous, wielding power over your life in very destructive ways. You’ll likely know it when you have reached that season of life — you know, the season when you can actually go out without make-up, wear a blouse two days in a row, love yourself for the whole person you are and wearing black support stockings in public, having convinced yourself that they really are stylish!
I don’t know about you, but I have to admit that I do have just a tad of trouble wearing support hose in public. That tells me that I need help, that I do not adequately value myself as a rule, that I still believe that my appearance defines me and that I need a shove to get to the point of loving who I am.
I don’t know about you, but I have to admit that I do have just a tad of trouble wearing support hose in public. That tells me that I need help, that I do not adequately value myself as a rule, that I still believe that my appearance defines me and that I need a shove to get to the point of loving who I am.
There is no better place to seek help with that than in the words of the psalmist in the 139th Psalm that say so much about how God created us and how God knows us inside and out. The Psalm tells us that we are ”fearfully and wonderfully made.” (v.14)
And then there are the inspiring words of artist and writer morgan harper nichols that so inspire me towards love, courage, audacity and the Light that runs wild within me, the Light that shines through my darkness and never goes out.
andperhaps whatmadeherbeautiful wasnotherappearance orwhatsheachieved butinher love and inhercourage, andheraudacity tobelieve no matter the darkness around her, Lightranwild withinher, andthatwastheway shecamealive, anditshowedup ineverything. — morgan harper nichols
May you have the strength to navigate those days when darkness threatens your light. May you love yourself and dig deep for the courage and audacity that frees you and lets the Light run wild within you!
For me, there is never enough mourning and grieving for Good Friday — never enough remembering, never enough weeping. There is never enough time to reflect on Jesus in the tomb after being betrayed, arrested, tortured, mocked, crowned with a braid of thorns that pierced his flesh and nailed to a rough-hewn cross. What could possibly be enough for me on this day that we spend remembering a tragic murder of an innocent Christ? How do I embrace the comforting presence of ENOUGH?
As a part of my contemplation today, I read an essay on observing the days of Lent written by Pádraig Ó Tuama. These words begin the essay entitled, A Is for Alleluia:
We make space to contemplate what it is that we will celebrate in 40 days’ time. We make space to recognise our faults. We pray a little more. We allow our emptier stomachs to remind us of the pithiness of our observations in comparison with real hunger. We give more money. We confess. We reconcile. We listen to emptiness for a while. We do not say Alleluia.
He’s right, of course, in writing that we do not utter a single Alleluia during Lent’s forty days. Still, I thought, not saying Alleluia is just not enough. What else must we do or not do? So many words came to mind, interestingly, the words I remembered were songs.Â
What language shall I borrow to thank thee dearest friend? So I’ll cling to the old, rugged cross… Just to think of the cross moves me now; It should have been me, it should have been me, instead I am free, I am free… Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Yes, I was there when Jesus was crucified. I was there looking up at his anguished face, every year. Every year on Good Friday, I was there, looking for a glimmer of hope in the darkness. But it seemed not enough, not at all enough. I heard from a friend last night who told me something about her life. When she wrote all the words and all of her thoughts, it all boiled down to this: “I am not enough.” And I thought, in response, “I am not enough either! Never enough!”
What a common belief for all of us. In whatever circumstances, relationships, friendships and any other area of our lives, why do we believe that we are not enough? I won’t go into the reasons here, for they are legion But what I must say is that, if Christ endured the terrible days we remember on this Good Friday for any reason at all, it was so that each of us would know beyond any doubt: “I am enough!
Again, the words of Pádraig Ó Tuama teach me and comfort me, when he writes about the meaning he finds in the darkness of Good Friday.
We attend the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, reminding ourselves of the emptying of God by God. We remember the descent of our tortured and abandoned brother into Hell. We allow emptiness to create hope.
How poignant are his words, “emptying of God by God” and “the descent of our tortured and abandoned brother into Hell.” The act of God was a selfless, redeeming act. The willingness to die by our “tortured and abandoned brother” was a selfless, redeeming and loving act. For all that Christ endured was for you and for me, so that we might accept our sacred worth as daughters and sons, beloved children who always believe they are enough.
Christ’s sacrifice — made so that we would believe we are enough. The walk to Golgotha bearing the weight of the heavy cross, bearing the weight of the world — he carried the weight so that we would believe we are enough. His cries from the cross, “It is finished. My God, why have you forsaken me?”  — he spoke so that we would believe we are enough.
When I think of the cross, I am moved, moved in my deepest place. I am deeply grateful for the sacrifice Jesus made for me. I remember the words of a song we sang in the 70s from the youth musical, “Natural High” . . .Â
Just to think of the cross moves me now; the nails in his hands, his bleeding brow; to think of the cross moves me now; It should have been me, it should have been me! Instead I am free! I am free! I am free! — Kurt Kaiser and Ralph Carmichael —
Thanks be to God, that giving God’s Son was sending us a critical, loving and life-giving message:                 “You, my beloved children, are always enough!”
I want to leave you with the song, “When I Think of the Cross,” recalling the words as well as my memory allows.
Long, long ago in a faraway place; Rough, rugged timbers were raised to the sky. There stood a man suspended in space, And though he was blameless, they left him to die.
Just to think of the cross moves me now; The nails in his hands, his bleeding brow; To think of the cross moves me now; It should have been me. It should have been me; Instead I am free, I am free. I am free!
He put an end to my guilt and despair; Turned bitter hating to sweet peace and love. Even the men who put him up there, Were offered forgiveness and life from above.
Just to think of the cross moves me now; It should have been me. It should have been me. Instead I am free, I am free, I am free! I am free!
God of the Sparrow 🌱 By Kathy Manis Findley 