
Holy Week finds me mired in mundane tasks. We are about to celebrate God’s greatest act since creation, and I am wondering what I will wear.
Perhaps I should be focusing on what Jesus endured on our, on my, behalf. His willingness to endure such brutality so that I would not have to, so that I would not be marked for destruction because of my sins.
Perhaps I should be immersed in His humanity, his willingness and ability to walk among us as a human, to learn our language, feel our grief, and struggle beside us. His frustration with those who closed their ears and found fault was evident. Am I the pharisee in the story? Confident that I know how God will manifest Himself, quick to criticize anything new or uncomfortable?
Perhaps I should be rejoicing in His miraculous saving power, His coming resurrection, the gift of His Spirit. He is making me a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17). He has given me the ability to become a child of God (John 1:12), an heir to His kingdom (Romans 8:16).
Shouldn’t I be weeping at the foot of the cross or rejoicing at the empty tomb?
My raspberry has returned for her second year. This is my first perennial, possible only because I am no longer tilling my garden every spring. I was worried it might not survive the winter, but it is bright and green and sending new plants up in the cracks of the cardboard.
Soon it will be time to plant the summer garden. Perhaps this weekend if I get the plants bought and the weather cooperates.
Easter is late this year, and it has compressed too many activities into the following week. The lake beckons, writing deadlines loom, travel preparations need attention. Holy Week finds me mired in mundane tasks.
But are these mundane tasks? Lunches with friends, a chance to connect and support and love each other? Tending to the garden, growing food, interacting with nature? Appreciating the beauty in the world, the lakes, the creeks, the flowers, and the trees, is this not a form of worship of the One who created it all?
And in addition, I have the privilege of sharing with you the joy that my raspberry bush is alive. She survived the winter. She is growing and cheerful. Perhaps she will bear fruit this year, although I have been told to wait until the third year.
Perhaps it is in the mundane tasks of life that we are to see and remember God. Yes, there are the moments of extreme passion and tremendous theological impact like what we celebrate this week. Four days that really did change the world. But most of our time is ‘ordinary time.’ Time spent with family or friends, at the lake, in the yard, or at the kitchen sink.
Perhaps these are exactly the times when I am called to display Christ’s presence in my life. Am I willing to suffer a little to ease someone else’s burden? Am I willing to share the daily struggles of those around me? Am I open to God acting in unpredictable ways? Am I becoming a new creation through the power of God’s Spirit?
Am I, like my raspberry bush, bursting with new life and sending sprouts into bare spaces? If so, why am I wondering what I will wear?
And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you that Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. Matthew 6:28-29.
I pray you have a blessed Holy Week, dear friends. I pray you acknowledge God in all the mundane tasks of life. I pray you have moments of weeping and moments of rejoicing and moments of quiet reflection. And don’t worry about what you wear; God sees your heart.
Love in Christ, Betsy