By Way Of The Rod

Happy few stand by backyard fire waiting, in early morning,  for the Son.  Waiting for the sun to rise with it's fiery ball of glory and joy and hope.  Especially as we mark the day.  Resurrection Day.  We sing songs to the One we love, all of us, and wonder that He has given us such eyes to see.  The only God to be raised from the dead.  The only God, seen by more than 500 living witnesses after His resurrection.   The only God Who paves our road to freedom.
And pays the toll too.

My Shoulders reads from the Gospel of John.  The story about John and Peter running to the cave.  Remember?  John outruns Peter, but stops to peer in.  Peter charges ahead.  We know Peter.  He would have charged into the cave with one question.  Krissy says it out loud.  "Do I get another chance?"

"Do I get another chance?".  Her mouth becomes unknown bow that shoots arrowed sentence.  Piercing me.  Direct hit.  My heart.  "Do I get another chance?".  I dissolve straight down into tears.  Jesus doesn't mess around.  He knows everything, and we can hide nothing.   We are the blessed and privileged ones when He wields His rod to strike us humble.  To show us who we really are.  To whip out anything unholy in His temple.  To reveal an unforgiveness that I have been holding, fist clenched tight and lifted into His face.  You know, the One Who suffered desperately for all the chances I would need.  Demand.

All the times I have asked Him, "Do I get another chance?", He has taken me, the prodigal, the lost lamb, the missing coin, back into His fold.  The fold of His arms.  With joy.  With thanksgiving.

And I?  I withhold forgiveness?  I put down hope and pick up death?  Walk around with all that?  Make him pay for all the hurt and sadness and living unknown?  "Does he get another chance?".  "Do I get another chance to give him another chance?"

Christ is Risen!  He is Alive!  He speaks to His people through His Word.  And sometimes the words of dear friends.  His Spirit is so sweet that even while He flails our bared backs with His rod, we must cry out in praise and thanks for this great love.   He won't allow this lying slavery that goes on with us.  With me.  His people WILL be free!  Mark it down.

And ask Him for another chance,

Bernadette