Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Devastating Destruction

I took this photo last night, somewhere between
Petersburg and Lincoln--a town right in the middle.

1In those days when there was again a great crowd without anything to eat, he called his disciples and said to them, 2"I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. 3If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way - and some of them have come from a great distance."

Destruction.

Ugh.

This word feels as devastating to enunciate as its meaning.

Sometimes winter is destructive. The season can annihilate hope, rupture our peace, and darken our joy. The darkness causes pause, which we sometimes fill we unhealthy habits. Despite all the frustrations that may accompany winter, it is a remarkable season. Environmentally speaking, winter eliminates many damaging insects and germs. Also, this is the time of year when plants (and even some animals) go into a type of hibernation where they build up all the good energy needed for new growth. As much as we may not like the winter and seek refuge in warmer parts of the country, it provides the necessary cycles of death that eventually lead to life.

Sounds familiar, yea?

In many ways, this happens to us, too. In worship, we have been letting go of our baggage and expectations that may prevent us from experiencing and embracing God’s love for us. We are dying to self so that we may live, which is what Lent is all about.

For the last five weeks or so we have been reading about the presence of God in the person of Jesus. We have learned how Jesus was the heart and face of God. The incarnation of God, the glory of God, was and is good news for us. Especially those of us who have had a hard, long winter. All this talk about death and 'dying to sin' has left us wanting the death-defying gift of resurrection.

I’m here to tell you it is coming. The Light of Christ will soon emerge on the other side of evil, and offers, though it hasn’t ever gone away, the gift of life.

But we must be patient. We must honor the seasons and trust the slow, often unnoticed work of restoration happening within and around us.

Our faith is the same way: we must trust the patient, often hidden work of God happening within and around us.

As we inch closer to Easter, let us continue to allow Lent to do its thing. Let us stay in our disciplines of fasting and prayer as we follow Christ into the wilderness. Let us continue to accompany Jesus though it might mean we confront our brokenness. Let us keep on our journey towards embodying the same love gifted to us by God.

We are nearing the homestretch, friends.

We might be tired. We might ache a little. Chances are, we are becoming restless and irritable. All of which is okay.

Just remember, like the crowds who were hungry and tired from following Jesus throughout his ministry, Jesus sees us. And he’ll do the same for us as he did for them in their exhaustion: when Jesus could have sent them away and back home, he had compassion on them and gave them food for their journey, rest for their souls, and hope for their hearts.