It's Sunday

Well, technically, it's Monday, but bear with me...

Our pastor played this video yesterday before his Easter message. And it hit me, as I watched the images before my eyes, that it wasn't always Sunday. There was a Friday too. And it must have been the longest weekend of the disciples' lives. Their Lord, crucified and buried. Where was their hope? Where was their joy? Where was the promised Messiah? The Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world?

I've been trying to put myself in the place of the disciples that Friday. Would I have trusted His Message? Remembered His words concerning His glorious return? And as much as I want to claim, as Peter did, that I would never disown my Lord, a part of me fears that I too would have run away from Christ that night in the garden. And the incredible part of that is, even when his closest friends, his very brothers, fell away, Christ still loved them and took their sins upon Himself. Not only their sins, but mine also.

And then, praise God, came Sunday. The Resurrection. Hope. Rejoicing. A promise fulfilled. The shout of a thousand voices singing

Christ is risen from the dead
We are one with him again
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave

Oh death! Where is your sting?
Oh hell! Where is your victory?
Oh Church! Come stand in the light!
The glory of God has defeated the night!

Christ is risen from the dead
Trampling over death by death
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave
Christ is risen from the dead
We are one with him again
Come awake, come awake!
Come and rise up from the grave

Rise up from the grave...

(Matt Maher)

It was Friday, but Sunday has come, and its promise remains and rings true for every man and woman and child. There are those who only know Friday...and they will never know otherwise unless someone tells them about Sunday.

10,000 Reasons for My Heart to Sing

This past Friday, I was tired. Really really tired. It had been a long week, and I wasn't going to have any time over the weekend to do my homework. Which means I was getting a little teensy-weensie bit, well, grumpy. I was home with the kids, and when I was trying to put the girls to bed, they all decided that they were hungry--again!--and they didn't want leftovers, and they didn't want apple slices, and they didn't want toast...they wanted hummus on a corn tortilla with melted cheese and a slice of ham. So I went to pull the hummus out of the fridge and the container slipped out of my hands and hummus fell all over the freshly-mopped floor. And I (almost) lost it. I was exhausted, overwhelmed thinking about all I needed to do. Saturday morning at 6 am I was carpooling a Suburban full of guys (and me) and their guns for an Airsoft event two hours away and I was behind in my reading for my lectures and I had two projects due and *sob* I just splattered hummus all over the floor. It was really time for me to throw a pity party for myself.

But of course, if I did that I wouldn't learn anything, now would I?

One thing that our pastor has been focusing on the past couple of weeks is the importance of hiding God's word in our hearts. For me, that involves not only spending time in the Word, but also keeping my mind focused on things of God. It's just so easy for me to slip out of my God-centered mindset, so the more time I spend with Him, the better. Go figure :) It's not rocket science...if you want to know God, you need to spend time with Him.

So anyhow, as the container of hummus flew from my hands, like a slow-motion action shot (I'm pretty sure I tried to stop it from falling, a "NoooooOOOOooooo!" of dismay escaping my mouth), my gut reaction was to allow my frustration to spill out. Sharp words. Angry tone. But before I reacted, my spirit was checked by a fountain of truth spilling over me.

Be still and know that I am God.

Be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger.

Momentary light affliction.

All things work together for the good of those who love God.

Peace, be still.

Blessed are the meek.

I AM that I AM.

God of All.

The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you.

And I felt the tension diffusing from me, like a big balloon deflating, coming down from its elevated height and settling in a crumpled heap on the ground. What an incredible perspective it is to look at your life through the lens of God's grace. There's no other way to pass through trials and storms. "For neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8:38-39). NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING, can separate me from my Jesus. Grasping even the slightest hint of this truth, with the knowledge of who I once was, and who God has destined me to be, and the absolute dichotomy of the two, makes even the biggest container of dropped hummus utterly irrelevant. 

The old hymn "Count Your Blessings" may not be on the Billboard Top 100, but I guarantee it has a deeper message than any pop song. When I truly count my blessings, listing all that God has done for me in my life, there is simply no way that I can feel sorry for myself. I am a child of God. There's only glory at the feet of Christ. Knowing that nothing will cross my path that I cannot overcome because the Lord is mine, and I am His, is an incredible comfort. Because I know that bigger things than a spilled container of hummus will come my way. Bigger things have already come my way. It just happened that the hummus was all I could handle Friday night.

Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons" is my song of the week, and my soul is truly worshipping at the thought of every reason I have to praise. From the sunrise this morning to "whatever lies before me" I want to have His praise on my lips. And let me be singing when the evening comes.