What's so good about Friday?
Tucker was looking at my calendar and asked me what Good Friday was. I told him that it is the day that Jesus died. As I said it, I was prepared for his next question....."why is it called 'good' when something so sad happened?"
When I think of Jesus in Gethsemane, my heart practically aches. The Bible records Jesus' words as "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." Luke says that Jesus prayed so hard that his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. Jesus asked His father to "take this cup from me", knowing what was to come. Yet he added "not as I will, but as you will." He knew what he had come for, and was willing to do whatever was required.
As Jesus endured the humiliation and the pain of the beating, the scourging, and the brutal, horrific act of crucifixion, his sinless soul took on the sins of every human being. Past, present, and future. And not just the "big stuff." Little things like ingratitude, prayerlessness, unconcern for the lost, a critical spirit, hypocrisy, envy, anger, jealousy, gossip, pride.
So what is so "good" about that?
Because it should have been me. It should have been you. But he loved us *so* much that he didn't want us to endure it. So he made a way for us. An "out", if you will. That kind of love is difficult to comprehend. As a parent, I can see a glimpse of that love. I would do anything in my power to spare my children from pain or heartache. But if my children hated me, despised me and turned their back on me and called me names, denied my very existence....would I still be willing to suffer and die for them?
I think of people that choose not to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, sent from heaven above to offer us peace, direction, purpose, and a plan. (Not to mention the unspeakable gift of life forevermore!) I wonder if they deny him because they simply cannot fathom that kind of love?
On Friday I will reflect back on that day that Jesus endured the cross for me. And I will undoubtedly cry tears of thankfulness that it didn't have to be me. Tears of sorrow that Jesus had to take it all on himself.
That, my friend, is what is so good about Friday.
When I think of Jesus in Gethsemane, my heart practically aches. The Bible records Jesus' words as "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." Luke says that Jesus prayed so hard that his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. Jesus asked His father to "take this cup from me", knowing what was to come. Yet he added "not as I will, but as you will." He knew what he had come for, and was willing to do whatever was required.
As Jesus endured the humiliation and the pain of the beating, the scourging, and the brutal, horrific act of crucifixion, his sinless soul took on the sins of every human being. Past, present, and future. And not just the "big stuff." Little things like ingratitude, prayerlessness, unconcern for the lost, a critical spirit, hypocrisy, envy, anger, jealousy, gossip, pride.
So what is so "good" about that?
Because it should have been me. It should have been you. But he loved us *so* much that he didn't want us to endure it. So he made a way for us. An "out", if you will. That kind of love is difficult to comprehend. As a parent, I can see a glimpse of that love. I would do anything in my power to spare my children from pain or heartache. But if my children hated me, despised me and turned their back on me and called me names, denied my very existence....would I still be willing to suffer and die for them?
I think of people that choose not to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, sent from heaven above to offer us peace, direction, purpose, and a plan. (Not to mention the unspeakable gift of life forevermore!) I wonder if they deny him because they simply cannot fathom that kind of love?
On Friday I will reflect back on that day that Jesus endured the cross for me. And I will undoubtedly cry tears of thankfulness that it didn't have to be me. Tears of sorrow that Jesus had to take it all on himself.
That, my friend, is what is so good about Friday.
Afternoon coffee...
Coffee is perfect first thing in the morning. I, like many others, can barely start my day without a steaming hot cup of the dark brew. But many people, I've found, only consider coffee a morning drink. They wouldn't dare to drink it after, say, noon, for fear of it keeping them awake.
After I had my third child, my sweet little Pumpkin, I started daydreaming about coffee around 3pm every day. I had never indulged in afternoon coffee, as it seemed almost a waste of money. Coffee, after all, isn't cheap.
But then one day I thought....I really *need* a cup o' joe. So I made it and have never looked back. Every afternoon, you can bet I'll have a pot of fresh dark roasted goodness on.
Unfortunately, I don't have any coffee buddies around here. Coffee, I've found, is best when shared with a good friend. My friend Stefanie moved last year, but before she left, most days you'd find us sharing a cup of the dreamy black liquid. If Stef was serving, we'd be sipping out of beautiful purple mugs. If I were serving, we would be enjoying our java out of mismatched mugs that sported the names or logos of places I've visited. We'd sit and chat and watch our children play on the playground. Sigh. Those are good memories.
I love having coffee with my husband, who loves the stuff as much as I do (although I admit I worried when he began to stray with someone named Earl Gray. Despite his unfaithfulness, I know in my heart he still will take coffee over tea. Especially if I'm drinking with him). We recently celebrated our anniversary at a very upscale restaurant and finished off our $161 dinner with a cup of coffee. It was nothing short of delightful.
So do yourself a favor. Indulge in one of the most sinfully delicious vices I know. Put on a pot of coffee around 3 o'clock. I promise it will thrill your soul.
Don't bother thanking me. You're quite welcome.
After I had my third child, my sweet little Pumpkin, I started daydreaming about coffee around 3pm every day. I had never indulged in afternoon coffee, as it seemed almost a waste of money. Coffee, after all, isn't cheap.
But then one day I thought....I really *need* a cup o' joe. So I made it and have never looked back. Every afternoon, you can bet I'll have a pot of fresh dark roasted goodness on.
Unfortunately, I don't have any coffee buddies around here. Coffee, I've found, is best when shared with a good friend. My friend Stefanie moved last year, but before she left, most days you'd find us sharing a cup of the dreamy black liquid. If Stef was serving, we'd be sipping out of beautiful purple mugs. If I were serving, we would be enjoying our java out of mismatched mugs that sported the names or logos of places I've visited. We'd sit and chat and watch our children play on the playground. Sigh. Those are good memories.
I love having coffee with my husband, who loves the stuff as much as I do (although I admit I worried when he began to stray with someone named Earl Gray. Despite his unfaithfulness, I know in my heart he still will take coffee over tea. Especially if I'm drinking with him). We recently celebrated our anniversary at a very upscale restaurant and finished off our $161 dinner with a cup of coffee. It was nothing short of delightful.
So do yourself a favor. Indulge in one of the most sinfully delicious vices I know. Put on a pot of coffee around 3 o'clock. I promise it will thrill your soul.
Don't bother thanking me. You're quite welcome.
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