Reconciliation

This morning I wake up, I am a little excited and a little nervous. I stress over my make up and hair.

It is beautifully sunny as I parked my car at my office. However, I can see my shadow on the asphalt crossing the parking lot. I look like Medusa, snakes of hair whipping around my head in the wind. There goes the hairspray and the “do” I left the house with.

The start of my morning goes very quickly, but about 10:30 am, time seems to slow exponentially. I am sure glancing at the clock every 3 to 4 minutes does not have anything to do with it. I notice my left knee twitching up and down. I feel the familiar twinge below my right thumb signaling my growing nervousness.

Lunchtime, I walk into the restaurant and there she is. My friend stood up and hugged me. I said,

“Oh, I think I’m gonna cry.”

I am sure the other diners looked at us wonderingly as we hugged and cried for the longest, sweetest time.

“What in the world is going on?” You might be thinking.

Reconciliation.

A beautiful word. Try it on. Roll it around in your mouth. This is one of the sweetest words in the English language.

Today I reconciled with my friend.

I feared our friendship was lost forever.

For months I nursed my bruised feelings, my self-righteous-feeling pain. My friend, also experiencing those same hurts.

Then I mourned. For years I lamented the loss.

You know those long-time girlfriends you have? The ones you cannot separate your past from theirs? I have 3 or 4 of these friends who go back to elementary school. Back in those days it seemed as if our brains and our hearts were cloned. We all thought alike. We like the same things, the same people, the same songs.

It aches to lose one of those life-long friends.

I have been heart-sick. I have felt incomplete…..And yet, I held back from attempting to mend the chasm because I have been afraid. The fear of rejection held me firm in its grip.

And then, today, the hugs, the tears…the beauty that is a friend. I marvel at the grace inherent in friendship. At once, we were both talking and laughing at the same time, reaching over to touch or pat each other’s hands, as if to make sure the other is really there and those lost years melted away. Here I was, sitting across from my beautiful friend. My heart sighed with contentment.

Isaiah 41:13 For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

I imagine God is like that when we reconcile ourselves with Him. I believe He holds on to us and cries tears of joy. I picture Him rejoicing the return of His beloved, calling us his friends and reaching out to lovingly hold our hand.

Cover Me

Psalm 32:1 Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

Last year I received a gift. Not just any gift, but a wonderful gesture of someone’s belief in me. As I prayed and thanked God for this person and this gift, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude I said it was the greatest gift I had ever been given. As soon as that thought flittered across my mind, God immediately reminded me of the true Greatest Gift.

And then, He took me there.

I am on my knees at the foot of the cross. The echo of taunting jeers still reverberates in my head. I see Jesus nailed to the cross, heavy spikes pierced through his hands and feet and into the rough wood. The skin is scraped off his knees where he staggered and fell on the way to the hill. His body is ravaged from the recent scourging he has undergone. The cord of the whip left tell tale stripes across his shoulders and sides. He is swathed in dirt, in sweat and streaks of oozing blood crisscrossing every which way. The blood is dripping from the wounds on his hands and feet into the thick dust on the dry ground. Each time a drop hits the ground a tiny cloud of dust puffs up for a second, then drifts back to the earth.

His face is a distorted mask of grief. One eye is completely swollen shut; the other is bloodshot and drooping. His cheeks are distended and purple. The twisted crown of thorns is still wedged on his head. The sharp barbs bite into his brow causing more blood to drip into his eyes and down his bruised face, which is covered with spittle from the angry mob.

Jesus cries out “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?”

A tear falls from his eye and trickles a path down his cheek through the blood and dirt.

I look around, it’s just me and Jesus, alone with the cross. I gaze at Jesus. That is MY sin covering his beauty. That is MY transgressions holding him to those beams. I see his anguish and pain. It belongs to me, but Jesus covered my sins with his blood, he paid the price for my life. I see his arms, nailed to the cross, outstretched as if he is beckoning me unto him.

Jesus, I’m here. Hold on to me, love me, change me, transform me into someone who is worth the price you paid.

My friend, this week I pray that you too, will take the time to travel to the cross. Journey from hosannas and celebration on Palm Sunday to the crucifixion on Black Friday. Then, rejoice the resurrection with me on Easter Sunday.