Some expected ones. The three little ones that wake me each morning began my day with excitement. Shortly after, my husband's handsome face graced my door, home from a 24-hour shift. The Thomas 5 is better when we are together and complete.
The day continued with Myron, my Saban son. He was followed by many that have shared Saba with us. Drew...a newcomer to Saba this past March. The entire Fincher family...our dear friends and partners in the work on Saba for years. Then there was Thomas Rhett...a friend that has brought me and Michael lots of laughs and joy, and one that we have missed. An afternoon trip to the zoo brought the sweet Ficken family into my day. My heart is happy to be able to visit with a little lady who bears my middle name. Jennaleigh Hope and her mommy and daddy and baby sister were a highlight of the day. As we dropped Myron back off at campus, more LU students that have become a big part of our lives were there...Braden, Evan, and Trey (even though he had not a clue who was watching him from the sidelines of his intramural soccer game).
Then it was back home. My mind and heart found peace, as the same three faces that began my day ended it with sleepy kisses and the sounds of good night prayers.
Smack in the middle of this beautiful Sunday, a face made its appearance in my mind. One that I have yet to actually see for myself, even though I do long for the day that I can rest my eyes on it. The face of Jesus.
During the morning worship we were a part of, the minister lead us in an extended period of communion apart from the norm. Each member held onto their piece of bread and cup. We were asked to focus on it as he read scripture. The reading was that of the cross.
"When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him.."
They crucified Him.
During the reading of this part of the Story, I close my eyes. I visualize the scene. I hear the sounds. I can see the clouds roll in with darkness. The hammering of nails pierce my ears. Mary's cry stops my heart. The smirks I can imagine on the soldiers faces anger me. The rip of the temple curtain is heard loud. The Lord cries out...
"Into Your hands I commit my spirit!"
Then in my imagination, things become quiet. At least for a few hours.
Most of the time my time of communion ends with those sounds and sights. But yesterday the minister continued. I will admit that I do not recall what he read or the thoughts he continued with while I had my eyes closed. But I was left with where my thoughts and imagination took me.
There I was thinking of the pain that Jesus suffered. The thorns, the whipping, the nails. But not only the physical pain, but the embarrassment of nakedness and the burn of insults and slurs. The thought of these things bring full tears. Then some words are inserted into my thoughts...
"By His wounds we are healed."
Those words bring a vision into my mind and imagination that I had never experienced so clear before. I imagine the face of my Savior turning toward me. Not with a sadness...not with pain and agony...but with a smile.
"By my wounds you are healed, Aletha."
We go through this life wanting comfort. When I was child I remember telling my mother I didn't want to go visit the nursing home. The situation made me uncomfortable. I just bought better pillows for our beds in our house. Why? Because the others were not comfortable anymore. I run around wanting the right clothes, the right make up, the right hairstyle...and for what? So I will feel comfortable in my own skin. At night I settle into my comfy couch, with my warm coffee, and usually never give a thought to how blessed I am by the comforts of my shelter, warm blankets, and food.
The things that bring me the most shame...I find excuses to keep me away from hospital rooms where death may lurk because I don't know what to say...I am uncomfortable. I fight back the Spirit-filled urge inside me to say, "Hey, do you know about Jesus?". Such conversations may make friendships or new relationships uncomfortable. I will do this and that, but that one thing that I could do in the name of Jesus...that's pushing it a little too far...too far outside of my comfort zone.
When and where in scripture were we ever called to be comfortable?! Never! Not once!
And look at our greatest example. That smile I see on the face of the Christ...it came from being not only uncomfortable, but it came from pain. How can I be so obsessed with my comforts of this world, when I serve a Lord who was born in a stable and placed in a hay filled manger for His crib. He walked in sandals with dirty feet, dripping with sweat for hours to heal the sick and feed the hungry. He went without food and water to make sure others quenched their thirst with the Living Water. He was constantly questioned and doubted, but He continued to teach. He never seemed to have a moments silence. This man had people grabbing at His clothes and lowering themselves into houses from the roof to see Him. His friends betrayed and denied Him. Jesus was mocked, scourged, and beaten.
Then they crucified Him.
He did not worry about being outside His comfort zone. He did worry with being about His Father's business, no matter the situation, no matter the price, no matter the discomfort. He chose to be uncomfortable. Not only that, He chose pain and death, for a much greater plan than anyone around could fathom. Death and pain did not win, however. There is hope in the fact that He rose and completed His Father's plan.
And that smile...that smile tells me He took joy in providing a way for me to be free. Free of the sin that entangles all of us. The sin of our own selfish comforts.
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