Tuesday in Holy Week

Sorry about muddling up the podcast yesterday. It was right in some places, and wrong in others. I think you can listen to it here if you got frustrated and wandered away. Although, if you did wander away, especially to do something like pray, that would be perfectly sensible.

Anyway, verily verily I say unto you, I do not have very much time to blog this week. I’ve been up for a long time already doing other things, and am still well behind the place where I desired to be at this point. Like, one of the things I wanted to do was dig back through my archives and find all the blogging I did in bygone eras, as a way or remembering what it was like to live through Holy Week with little children. But I haven’t had a moment because I’ve been moving my seedlings in and out (for a little sun, but not too much, and not too much rain and cold, but they do have to get used to being outside), and also doing laundry and reading children’s essays. And also we finally did our taxes. And then I also had to dig through the garage looking for something that I have now forgotten. That’s the way it goes. My list is so long that even though I consult it all the time, I am definitely going to forget important things.

So anyway, I did find a moment to read this, which is really good. The person says more clearly and plainly what I have often tried to articulate:

I was arguing about the merits of a glass by the sink. But for my wife, it wasn’t about the glass. It wasn’t about dishes by the sink, or laundry on the floor, or her trying to get out of doing the work of caring for our son, for whom there’s nothing she wouldn’t do. It was about consideration. About the pervasive sense that she was married to someone who did not respect nor appreciate her. And if I didn’t respect or appreciate her, then I didn’t love her in a manner that felt trustworthy. She couldn’t count on the adult who had promised to love her forever because none of this dish-by-the-sink business felt anything like being loved.

Just to make this about Jesus, just for a moment, the problem is that he (Jesus) wants us to give ourselves to him. He wants everything, but it is generally the small things that are the hardest to give over–to him. He gives himself–his body, his soul, his blood, his glory–to bring us into an everlasting communion. But the signs of this great gift feel so paltry, so small–a sip of wine, a dry taste of bread, a difficult book. But then, taking a hold of the gift, be it ever so grand, is yet very hard. The smaller the action, sometimes, the harder it is. Going forward for the bread and the wine, sitting in church, trying to get along with other people, praying, reading the Bible, admitting to not doing what he asks….the list is quite long but is generally mundane. It is not big sacrifice that trips up the believer, it is the small, intimate ones that feel impossibly terrible. But the small things add up, ultimately, to one big huge sacrifice, yourself in the hands of Jesus. If you give him everything about yourself, you will find that you didn’t lose any of the things you thought you were definitely losing. And doing that allows you then to do it with other people–even your wife or your husband.

Have a nice day!