Good Friday


Today is Good Friday, and the church marquee reads, “When He was on the cross, you were on His mind”.

I’ll never comprehend how Divinity’s infinite love willing chose to pursue my sullied mortality to an excruciating death on a cross. I can only accept it and forever praise Him for it.

At breakfast with two brothers yesterday I shared this true story which testifies that no matter peaceful or troubled life finds us; close or distant in our faith; sane or troubled in mind, from the genesis of Creation; to a straw manger bed; to a cross on Calvary; to this very moment and throughout eternity, we remain ever in His incomprehensible love and on His mind.

May this Good Friday find you blessed and filled with thankful praise.

Searching for the Invisible God – Phillip Yancey

My wife leads a weekly “Christian circle” at a nursing home.  An Alzheimer’s patient named Betsy faithfully attends, led there by a staff worker, and sits there through the hour.  Betsy is slender, with snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant smile.  Every week Janet introduces herself, and every week Betsy responds as if she’s never seen her before.  When other people interact in the group or laugh at some little joke, Betsy smiles a distant, disarming smile.  Mostly she sits quietly, vacant-eyed, enjoying the changing scenery from her room but comprehending nothing of the discussion going on around her.

After a few weeks, Janet learned that Betsy has retained the ability to read.  Often, she carries with her a postcard her daughter sent her several months before, which she pores over as if it came in yesterday’s mail.  She has no comprehension of what she’s reading and will repeat the same line over and over, like a stuck record, until someone prompts her to move on.  But on a good day she can read a passage straight through in a clear, strong voice.  Janet began calling on her each week to read a hymn.

One Friday the senior citizens, who prefer older hymns they remember from childhood, selected The Old Rugged Cross” for Betsy to read.  “On a hill far away stands an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame,” she began, and stopped.  She suddenly got agitated.  “I can’t go on!  It’s too sad!  Too sad!” she said.  Some of the seniors gasped.  Others stared at her, dumbfounded.  In years of living at the home, not once had Betsy shown the ability to put words together meaningfully.  Now, obviously, she did understand.

Janet calmed her: “That’s fine Betsy.  You don’t have to keep reading if you don’t want to.” 

After a pause, though, she started reading again, and stopped at the same place.  A tear made a trail down each cheek.  “I can’t go on! It’s too sad!” she said, unaware she had said the same thing two minutes ago.  She tried again, and again reacted with the sudden shock of recognition, grief, and the exact same words.

Since the meeting had drawn to a close, the other seniors gradually moved away, heading for the cafeteria or their rooms.  They moved quietly, as if in church, glancing over their shoulders in awe at Betsy.  Staff workers who had come to rearrange the furniture stopped in their tracks and stared.  No one had ever seen Betsy in a state resembling lucidity.

The church marquee reads, “When He was on the cross, you were on His mind”. Today is Good Friday. I’ll never comprehend how Divinity’s infinite love willing chose to pursue my sullied mortality to death on a cross. I can only accept it and forever praise Him for it.

At breakfast with two brothers yesterday I shared this true story which testifies that no matter peaceful or troubled life finds us; close or distant in our faith; sane or troubled in mind, from the genesis of Creation; to a straw manger bed; to an old, rugged cross on Calvary; to this very moment and throughout eternity,  we remain ever in His incomprehensible love and on His mind.

May this Good Friday find you blessed and filled with thankful praise.

Keep Looking Up . . . His best is yet to come!

Life’s Seasons


Winter Invades Fall

This after-the-storm picture of Winter invading Fall had me contemplating my mortality. From first to final breath, much like the changing of the seasons, life is a continuum of seasons.

The Spring of my life witnessed a carefree childhood morph into an adolescence of uncertainty and tentative teens before yielding to the Summer of adulthood, running the gamut of experiences and emotions from gain to loss; joy to sorrow; trial to triumph; happiness to heartbreak. Fall followed suit, but with slightly more intensity, enhanced by increased awareness of both life’s responsibly and appreciation.

Gazing on this scene today, I realized, albeit somewhat reluctantly, my life’s journey has entered Winter. Spanning nearly eight decades, my journey lies somewhere below life’s summit in Winter’s snows, above Fall’s fading colors. Given the genre of my life’s journey, I suspect my current location resides in that fog below the mountain’s summit 😊

Regrets?  . . . many, most self-attributable.  Blessings? . . . many more, attributable to God’s unfathomable Grace alone. And so, I gratefully journey on towards the summit, uncertain of my arrival time, but assured of a forever room at the top is waiting for me . . . Hope to see you there.

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you.” John 14:2