If I think too hard upon the broken mess that I truly am, even though I hide it from 82% of the world, it just makes the events that happened nearly 2,000 years ago harder to celebrate. Sweeter, in some ways, but sometimes the reality of my sin, and my shame is just too much.
It kills me, to picture my Jesus, taking blow after blow for the way I just yelled at my youngest son after an afternoon of temper tantrums and power struggles. It shames me to recount all of the times that I go forth, in my own strength, and make such a mess because I didn’t yield to Him.
Sweet sisters, if you are in a similar place, then let’s pause. Let’s take a few moments and breathe. Let the fresh, cleansing breath send out all of the stress and regret. Let it bring the hope of His promises, and the joy of the RESURRECTION, the reason that we have hope at all.
May your days leading to Easter be filled with joy, wonder and awe. And most of all, love.