Holy Week

As you journey into this week of complex, holy emotions, embrace them!  Holy Week takes us from the jubilant donkey ride into Jerusalem to the Upper Room to Pilate, the Cross, the Tomb and to the Resurrection.  So much to dissect and wonder about!

We begin with waving palms and soon after shout, “Crucify Him!” 
     We wash one another’s feet, both giving and receiving the depth of Christ’s love.
          We strip the altar bare, extinguish candles and walk in darkness.
                We walk the stations of the Cross, walking with Jesus on this pain-filled path.
                     We sit in darkness, praying and singing as Jesus dies on the cross.
                          We welcome the new Light, shouting words of joy in the resurrection!

Fall asleep in the garden.  Wrestle like Peter in his denial.  Feel the sting of the thorns, the nails and the sword.  Cry out as the last words are spoken.  Carry the broken body to the tomb.  Go home, empty and hopeless.  Return to the tomb to anoint your friend, Jesus.  Smell the oils, spices and herbs you carry in your arms.  Panic at the sight of an empty tomb.  Be dazzled by the angels.  Hear your name spoken by the One who calls His Flock by name.  Go…tell…

We walk this journey with Christ, not fully understanding the depth of this gift, but knowing that because of His sacrifice, we are ever wrapped in the arms of forgiveness, of grace and of eternal life.

May the depth of Christ’s love be with you,
~Rev. Debbie

Pushing Off

On any journey, we must find out where we are before we can plan the first step. 

--Kathy Boevink

So... here’s what I said to Jeff on Sunday about embarking on our journey:

"I feel like my heels and the balls of my feet are firmly planted here, but my toes are ready to spring forward."

Some days the toes are what keep me excited about the possibilities. Some days the rest of my feet are reminding me of what has been, what is and about what grounds me.

Friends, I have been grounded here for my whole life.  I have never moved further than to college in Winona and back.  Everywhere I have lived since has been within a 10-mile radius.  I am insecure about the act of moving nearly 600 miles, in trusting a moving company, in making a quick decision about a new house in a new community. 

And yet, I have to trust the process.  I have to let go of my desire to control the process.  Sure, there are things I can do to help it along the way.  There are plenty of boxes to pack!  But one of my friends who has moved across the country, from state to state multiple times, told Jeff and I that we need to focus on the people, not the house. 

We know that.  But being who we are, we need to find the balance.

We are on a teeter-totter, counting on the fulcrum to hold us up while different priorities try to pull opposite ends of the board, trying to soften the blow as one thing jumps off and we go crashing to the ground on the other end.  Emotions, activities, people, Jeff’s business, commitments. 

The fulcrum is God.  The fulcrum is what grounds us wherever we are.  When we are hanging high on one end, or when we are on the ground, or anywhere in between on this teeter-totter, God is that triangle of strength that helps us find the balance.

So my feet, my heels and the balls, are planted in Minnesota because it is where I know, it is where most of the people who have empowered and supported me are. 

But here I am, at this time in my life, with itchy toes.  Toes that are ready to push off, perhaps to lift me on this teeter-totter, perhaps to turn a different direction than the familiar path on which I have been walking, perhaps to leap into the arms of Jesus, into the unfamiliar, embraced by Him.

Maybe next week the balls of my feet will sense the ground getting a little more mushy, a little less firm, a little more ready to release me to make the leap a little easier.

Dear God, you are the fulcrum, the center of all that is happening, and I thank you.  Amen.