The Man of Sorrows knew we would have sorrow and so He sent the Comforter. For those who mourn. Not the concealers, never-feelers, and nerves of steelers.
This is not an indictment. This is a statement of conviction that I found myself heavy under this morning and had to repent to free myself of its weight. What are we doing, Church?
What will you do with this Risen Lord? When the songs have been sung, the dress has been worn, and nothing is left of Easter but wilting lilies and foil wrappers… what comes next?
Tell me you don’t understand Christology or soteriology without telling me… never mind. You don’t understand Jesus or salvation if you think social justice equates to Christ on the cross.
The Name of Christ changed my life,
from heel to heart, to habits.
Nothing will ever be the same,
I carry the testimony of the lame—
who’s now able to walk in HIS victory.
Now, I know my stands of flowers aren’t exactly Isaac on the altar and we shouldn’t pretend they are. The purpose of this post is not piety or admiration, it’s illustration and education.
It wasn’t until high school or college that I became aware of some of the complex layers and dynamics. I much preferred the obliviousness of childhood.
