Our Holy Week has not resembled that of past years. Foot washing and communion have been replaced with draggy children and early bedtimes. My goal of little-to-no screen-time this week vanished with the first fever's arrival on Monday evening. I didn't have enough fight in me to argue with whiny kiddos.
Three o'clock Good Friday morning. My own restless sleep is interrupted by feverish wimpers, revealing the child's health I thought, hoped was improving is actually going the other direction. And I'm wiping a boy's burning, aching forehead, praying, and it hits me. The events of Jesus' life at this exact time 2000 years ago give me hope beyond this moment, beyond the wimpers and fevers of this life. How like God to meet me in the trenches.
The amazing thing about Jesus' life, crucifixion, and most importantly resurrection is that He brought the Holy to humanity, paving the path for us to approach His throne of grace with confidence (Heb 4:16). The trials and pain of life on this earth are not the end. How great His love for you, me that He would willingly suffer at the hands of the very people He was dying for, to give us hope beyond the yuck of this world .... a glorious hope of eternity spend in the presence of pure Love itself. My feeble brain cannot fathom such a gift.
No, Holy Week has not met my expectations. We may not even make it to church this weekend. But somehow that's ok. God knows. And He has made it clear that He is just as present in the bedroom of a feverish child on Good Friday morning as in a lily-adorned sanctuary on Easter Sunday.
