Two Pieces of Wood...

Lately, I’ve been traveling from point A to point B without knowing how I arrived there. The last couple months of my life have been insane.  The journey of seminary has been beautifully overwhelming and Lord knows this blog has been quieter than ever before, but through the mountains and valleys, I’m finding peace by learning how to manage chaos and embrace a new normal.

Good Friday would have been Dominic’s 60th birthday. As much as I wanted to share with you what God’s been doing, pressing my fingers to the keyboard to type just didn’t seem appropriate. Sometimes we need to be emptied out to fill back up. I’m full again.

Like most of us, I spent Good Friday feeling grateful for the work of the cross. I’m still amazed that two pieces from a tree were large enough to build a bridge to heaven. As I pondered the agony of my Savior, I was able to thank Him for making this world connect to the next.  Because of Jesus, death is never the end, it’s only the beginning.  Yet, even though I’m fully aware of the hope He suffered to give, I’m also aware that in the name of grief, the enemy tries to block hope. And the more I work to process this, the more I realize it’s because tragedy usually chases us to seek Jesus like never before. If grief keeps us away from Him, then hope slowly dies, but if we allow it to pull us closer, then hope becomes the great resuscitator. And, Lord knows, I often find myself in need of serious hope resuscitation!

I know it sounds strange, but losing those we hold dear awakens us to the eternal hope of what lies ahead. If we never faced adversity we might not ever experience dependence on Him, or desperation for Him. Listen, I firmly believe we need to need God through the best of times as well as the worst. And I believe many of us do praise Him in all seasons, but pain tends to show us how much deeper we can trust and how much stronger we can reemerge.  It doesn’t even have to be a major tragedy, one minor disturbance in life and the next thing we know our pull to faith and holiness is magnetic. We are quickly connected to the Father without any realization of how we got to Him so fast.

I was in the word constantly when Dominic was taken suddenly to heaven, and I still found myself gripped by the magnetic pull of seeking Jesus more than ever before. This leads me to believe that hope is found in the darkest of places, not just when things are better than ever and life is going our way. The very best parts of hope are found in the dirtiest, ugliest, and most unexpected places. Real hope is found in the grimy bits underneath the grossest garbage. And isn’t it something, that’s where treasure is found too!  Priceless finds are usually covered in dirt. Friend, when you choose hope, you choose life. When you hold hope, you hold everything!

Good Friday should have been a very bad day for my family. Instead, we rejoiced, each in our own way, because we believe firmly in the hope and magnetic pull of a God that says, “I want you closer, closer, closer still. “ Hello, Romans 8:28! And, in the middle of all my daily chaos and uncertainty surrounding how I’m making it from point A to point B within life’s responsibilities, I want to be overwhelmingly aware of what it is that leads me to my Savior.

Maybe today I can challenge you to do what I’m working hard to do myself. I never want to live one day void of hope, and because of that, even in tragedy, I’m learning to find my voice of praise. It seems to speak loudest inside dark places. Yours will too!  I’ve also been focusing on the vows I spoke to my husband so many years ago at our marriage ceremony.  I believe they should be what we think of when it comes to our commitment to Christ. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness in health, Dear Jesus, I do.

Never have I ever been so grateful for two pieces of wood.

How was your Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday?

Love,

Jennifer

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