Author: Wick

I remember standing in a room where they believe the “last supper” took place. I was about 16 years old, and visiting Israel with a group of adults from our church. Who knows if it was actually the room, or if somewhere an entire descended line continues to laugh for telling early Christians this playroom for children was once used for a final supper with Christ and His disciples. (the ultimate April fools joke?)

In either case, that moment among many of that trip – made Christ physical to me. Reminded me He was more than just a spiritual being, or a concept, or collection of fuzzy stories we tell to put children to sleep or get them to behave. Christ walked this earth. Jesus was. God came in the form of something created. Humble, human, prone to hungers and suffering.

He knew something huge was going to happen. That the next few days would transform all of humanity (history, present, and future), and all of creation through it. So he gathers them all into a room, washes their feet, talks with them about what God is doing, and breaks bread with them – communicating His Love for them the entire time…even to Judas.

May we experience elements of Communion/Eucharist with every bite we chew and swallow. God has/is/will be loving us.

I could feel it before I even opened my eyes.  There was a presence in the room.  Not shaking me into consciousness, but not exactly hiding either.  I resisted.  Maybe if I just pretended I didn’t notice, the presence would go away.  But I couldn’t.  She wasn’t using any sort of tool to force my eyelids open.  At the same time, there is not much more infinitely compelling than this kind of moment.

As I began to open my eyes slowly, the scene before me took shape.  There at the edge of my bed, was my two year old, Sophie Grace.  Eyes as wide as the sunrise over the Eastern Sea.  Smile beaming brighter than anything filtering through the window.  An almost satisfied gasp as she registered that I’d noticed her standing there next to me.  As I reach out to her, my arms feel heavy as I’ve not moved them in hours.  But the moment they make contact with hers, energetically clinging to me as if they’ve awaited this moment for years – it seems she has given my arms new energy.  Her spirit floods me to the innermost parts of who I am, and I want nothing more than to draw her close and never let go.  Just being together makes so much else fade away.  Schedules.  Meetings.  Events.  Debts.  Rainy weather. Whatever.  I am blessed to hold and be held.

It’s a moment I reflect back on, and thank God when he has approached me in a similar way.  Times where He’s entered my life in new ways, and not “shaken” me or forced my eyes open with any sort of tool.  Nevertheless his presence is such an infinitely compelling reason to allow myself to be raised from all types of slumber.

And the joy on God’s face, the Happiness of the Spirit when we recognize His presence and reach out for Him….ahh….it is good.  Looking forward to more.

As word spread quickly that Jesus was coming to town, excitement grew.  An almost electrically charged anticipation built as people prepared to welcome the Rabbi who they wanted to claim as King.  They created a path in his honor, and gathered garments and palm branches to adorn his entry.  They are claiming Jesus Christ as King.  As authority.  As the One they desire to live their lives for, from, and under.

And in the corner of this picture, we see many of us, setting our palm branches somewhere else. 

I think the most popular place to put our palm branches may be our clocks.  Our time is precious, and belongs to us.  Or maybe our planners.  The dates in our notebooks filled with inked in commitments, events, and television shows.  Perhaps our palm branches rest comfortably under our wallets.  Our financial resources, and the desire for them to grow – sometimes even out of a misguided notion that rightness with God will lead to monetary and material gain.  It could even be that our palm branches are directly underneath our own feet.  Welcoming ourselves as the ultimate authority and measure of the daily choices we make.  Each of us may have something different we are tempted to set our palm branches before.

Today we are reminded that we live in a world FULL of opportunities to commit ourselves to.  Places to go.  People to serve.  Cultural “norms” that aren’t thought about much at all. 

Today we are challenged to pay attention where our palm branches have been resting.  What have we been welcoming into our lives in the way we should be welcoming Christ?  What have we been submitting to as an authority?  What are our lives oriented around?

May God be with us, as we ask these questions of ourselves…and also of the families many of us are raising/building.  What better week to allow God to help us move our palm branches into the path of Jesus, than the final week of Lent?  We look forward to the week ahead, to the remembering of the crucifixion, and to the celebrating of something much more than “coming back to life”….