Holy Week

One week out of the year Christians seem to be permitted to openly be passionate about our beliefs and faith in God without criticism.  I have noticed that during the seasons just before Easter or sometimes Christmas there are several faith-based movies and shows on TV.  By the same token, many times while channel surfing, I run across some bits of news or commentaries designed to prove why it is all just a myth.  Once historians were calling Mary a woman who knew scriptures and manipulated them to make the New Testament fit with Old Testament prophecies.  There are those who have reminded me that in almost every account of creation that has ever been there is a virgin birth story, except Darwin of course.  There are efforts to prove true or false the Holy Grail or the shroud of Christ.  This year’s prize is two words on an old parchment “my wife,” to indicate Jesus was married. 

Even though often Christians are accused of taking a few words out of scriptural context to make a certain point, we seem to be expected to jump on the parchment wagon over two words.  I have often been told that in order to prove a negative there first had to be a positive.  Does this mean someone believed in God first and proceeded to try to prove there is not?

As you can see, I am no debater of scriptures or history, but am convinced in my heart that Jesus Christ is alive and well in heaven and in the hearts of believers, of which I am one. 

It is not a ministry of mine to preach on a street corner or hit someone over the head with legalism and rigidity.    It is my ministry, however, to spread the joy inside my heart to all who will smile with me as we walk through our earthly journey. 

Whether walking down the street with my guide dog or singing a song in the shower, I believe life is a spiritual experience and I know where my joy comes from.  It is always my hope someone will ask about it. 

I am by no means super anything; my heart is simple.  There have been many times in the past where I cried and felt like I had my own Gethsemane, only to realize no matter how awful things may be, no one can out-suffer God.  Neither can anyone out-give nor out-love God, but I bet it makes Him happy to see us try. 

As I continue learning, I find myself in another new place.  It has been over a year since being laid off from work and prospects look slim.  No longer can I see pictures as I once could.  Colors fade together and every day my small light and visual perception are less than the day before.  It is not easy.  However, on Sunday morning it is my plan to join with the choir and truthfully  sing with joy that cantata as though I just won the lottery.