Today is Easter. It is also the first holiday I've spent away from home since years ago when I'd gone to an Urbana conference Christmas/New Year's week. It was full. I am drained and wondering how I'll function in the morning, but would not trade it for anything in the world.
Pulling into the church parking lot, I prepared myself and legs for a long trek, but was happy to find someone from the earlier service pulling out as I was turning the corner. Knowing I was 20min late I assumed I'd be standing like Danny and I had to do weeks before and was second-guessing the wedge heels I'd worn. I'm no fan of blisters or sore feet. By the grace of God (really!), I found a seat up in the front and made myself comfortable around my fellow brothers and sisters. Everything was right for once.
We had a very celebratory time of reflection and worship today at church.
Shortly after the special choral program, a few volunteers participated in what was dubbed "The Cardboard Testimony". One by one, each person went up to the front holding a large sheet of cardboard and on it was posted their deepest secrets and hurts - the "before", if you will. Slowly and joyfully, they flipped the sheet to reveal the glorious "after", the ways in which God had brought restoration, forgiveness, healing and redemption. I was floored and could not help tearing up throughout the entire presentation.
A few of the stories hit close to home for me and for a friend of mine. I thought of him and his many hurts and my heart ached for him to be at church with me to witness this; to be reminded once again of the great, unfathomable, unsearchable, unending love of the Father. To know that He was not alone in his hurts, that others had suffered and overcome them, and that he could, too.
As I reflected on these lives, these hearts turned whole and full by the grace of forgiveness and mercy, I was struck silent, at once both thankful and heartbroken, in unease and yet happily at peace. Reflecting on where/who I once was and where/who I am now: A work in progress still. Ever growing. Ever faltering. Forever loved and forgiven. Accepted even when I am not. His and not my own.
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