Holy Days

You all know how I love to goof off and, in general, have a jolly good time.  Whether it's my love of Downton Abbey or experiencing a musical revue in a sea of Q-tips, I love experiencing life and having a blast doing it.

That's only part of who I am, though.

Lately, I have been studying the Word of God, more deeply than ever before.  I love feeling my soul being satisfied, fat and happy.  The more I study, the more I want to feast on His Word and know with every fiber of my being who He is.

(Photo courtesy Corbis Images)

Because of this hunger being filled more than before, this week has a particular precious meaning to me.  Easter has always been a wonderful holiday, but now more than ever, I cherish it and want my family to, as well.

I've never really dwelt on the time between the Triumphant Entry and the Resurrection too much.  I've alway kind of sped through it, not really wanting to think on the horrible pain my Savior endured for one so unworthy as me.  In my mind, it was on to the celebration of the Resurrection, please, complete with the new dresses and cutely dyed eggs.  Of course, I was thankful and understanding of what happened and the significance, but I didn't think, truly, of the beauty of it all.

Yes, there is beauty in in.  How can there be in midst of the horror of the blood and torture?  In the human-perceived injustice and unfair sacrifice?

But it is there.  It's there in the way the people couldn't contain their praise and worship of the exalted King as they shouted out "Hosanna, Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!"  Yes, we know that many of them would ultimately betray Him but they simply could not contain themselves.  If the people had managed to keep a lid on it, the rocks would have cried out.  While my children think that it would have been totally cool to hear the rocks singing, I would never want my own heart to be lacking in praise so much that the inantimate things around me take my job of exalting Jesus.

There is beauty in the way Christ cared so much for His mother, that He looked down as He was dying and entrusted her into the care of the one disciple who hadn't deserted Him, the one He loved, John.

There is beauty in the way the veil was torn between the sanctuary of the Temple and the Holy of Holies, signifying that there was now and forever no more boundary between me and my God.

There is beauty in the way Jesus instituted Communion, as a symbolic rememberance of what He accomplished on the Cross.  This I have the priveledge of taking part of corporately in the body of Christ and with my family in our home.

So you'll have to pardon me this week, if I seem distant and lost in my thoughts. 

I'm just all-consumed and in love with my Jesus and astounded, amazed and taken-aback by what He chose to do for me.