I'm sorry, my loves. I feel like I have no time left in my life for anything! Summer is coming up and I hope that it will change my availability, not to mention the fact that I deleted my twitter and tumblr.
Blogspot > Tumblr. All day every day.
So. Today is Easter, and I have to get used to writing coherently again. For a while, I'll probably use a lot of so and anyway.
Easter. Bam. I was sitting with the lovely Sydney Ilg for Good Friday service, and they played clips of The Passion. Every time, I LOSE it. Like, sniffling, teary eyes, choked up. And sometimes I think of blog posts, then I realize that it's a revelation that everyone's already gotten. This is a post for me to try to express the revelation I've been given, even if everybody already knows.
Jesus. Dying. Every time somebody tries to express this, I think of those people that have signs outside of Rockies games saying, "JESUS SAVES" or "JOHN 3:16." And I think of children. As a child, I thought Jesus was just kind of taped to a cross wearing his loincloth and looking to Heaven. He just walked up to the cross, they stuck him on there, and he died.
And somehow, it took me until now to realize just how much He loves me. He moaned and cried. His back was beaten to a bloody pulp, his face unrecognizable. He carried His cross up to calvary, and was nailed to it.
What I'd never thought about before...He carried His cross the entire way. It wasn't made out of Styrofoam, cardboard, or a hollowed tree. This cross was as large as he was. It was heavy and it had splinters. A man carrying a cross like his is pretty impressive in itself.
After being whipped, beaten bloody, and left half-dead, He carried it. He was mocked, denied, and hated. He still carried it.
Christianity has made the cross to be our symbol, but I don't think (just from my perspective) we imagine a bloody cross every time we see the white t. I'd like to change that. So, every time I see a cross, I want to think to being on the verge of tears. I want to remember entirely what Jesus did, and celebrate his resurrection every day.
I've been wearing my faith bandz (silly bandz--christian style) since Christmas. I wear the same one, all the time. It's three nails, and I think it's made me realize something. When I first started wearing it, it got in the way, I noticed it quite often, and I got asked about it. As I wore it for a longer period of time, it became just a part of every outfit. I would forget about it, and only get asked about it every once and a while. I think it's the same with Christianity. We see the bummers (no partying, guilt, whatnot), but we're new to it, so we don't mind. The good WAY outweighs the bad. People asks what's changed, and we tell them it's Jesus.
I don't want my faith to be like that anymore.
Well, I'm done writing. I'll write hopefully soon!
Love,
Leah
