Yahweh...

Yesterday I went to walk the stations of the cross at Jacob's Well. It was just one more example of how dearly I love this community of people. As I mentioned in my Ash Wednesday post, JW does a really fantastic job of merging many different faith traditions, and taking the better parts of some really dogmatic, ritualistic traditions, pulling the meaning out of them, and making for a really beautiful interaction with the Lord.

Cass joined me, and we walked the stations after work. It was like being at a holy museum in the middle of a day where I desperately needed to meet the face of a savior and a dear friend.

I got what I came for.

As we talked through how we felt about each station and processed what we were witnessing, I was overwhelmed at how an experience I'd walked through in a meaningless fashion before in the parishes of my youth could be so updated and relevant.

For inspiration at each station, they posted two pieces of recently created artwork in place of tile interpretations (what I'd seen in most Catholic churches).

It was inspiring to see people create a work for the savior - beauty chronicling some of the most painful moments in human existence. What was particularly noteworthy was that they'd invited children to create something too. Some were really literal - blood and gore and suffering, and others were abstracted works with thread, words and color interpreting the final moments of Christ's life.

Cool and museum-like as the walk was, the experience was particularly painful for me.

I love the concept of grace dearly, but I continually have to return to God to even begin to understand it. It's hard during this Easter season to continually remind myself of how broken and unworthy I am, and how much he physically endured, because he believed I am beautiful and worthy.

A man, a flesh and blood man that I never knew was whipped, spat on, bled profusely, carried a weighty piece of wood up hills, fell under the burden of its weight, and continued up a hill to the place where he was mercilessly tortured....all for us.

I can't really be ok with that. And I think it's good that I'm not.

As this stuff spun through my mind, it exploded while we stood at the station where Jesus falls for a third time - Station Nine.

I lost it.

I lost all pretense of the prettiness of God. As I wept then and prayed throughout the night, I realized that I was standing close enough to him that he could kiss me and tell me the truth. The truth of the crucification is the embodiment of how much he love(d)(s) me.

The overwhelming burden that he took on for me is something that I can't ever be good enough to deserve. No matter how much sin I try to avoid, eradicate or shut out, I'll never be good enough for him. But I don't have to be, and I have to get ok with that.

The only way I know to show him how thankful I am is not to BE perfect, but to praise him and BE REAL. To really shine in all the ways he intended for me. To touch the faces of those that are hurting. To do my best not to cause hurt, but to sow love.

And above all, to just love him, and be unabashed in my display of it. So here goes...

I am loved.

I am blessed.

I have a God that loved me so much that he burst through the heavens, lived amongst his children, and then sacrificed himself for me.

I must love Him utterly. I have no other option...my heart compels me to it. There is no other impulse, no other facade in me. I am a daughter of God...THE Yahweh...THE Jehovah...THE Living God.

Today's soundtrack: I Cannot Hide My Love - Enter the Worship Circle: Second Circle