I get so excited when people ask and I never get tired of telling it. I love getting to share with people about my "hopeless romantic" husband and how he worked hard to pursue my heart and win my affection. I love our Love Story and I thank God for it.
However - am I just as eager to share the story of my First Love? The love that came long before Luke's did? The love that is in fact, more important, more vital, more astounding - the very love my life depends upon?
Oh yes, I am surely capable of telling that story. But do I long to tell it? Do I ache for it? Do I never tire of it and am I thrilled and excited when people ask? Do I just about burst with an outpouring of words that become sweeter every time I say them? Because only when the world becomes bitter, does this story become sweet.
With Easter upon us, we look to the story - about the Christ who hung and bled and gave. The little baby who was born to die - to come to a world that He loved in order to be hated, falsely-convicted, and murdered.
On Tuesday we read of the Passover. And we thank the Lord for the blood of His Lamb that covers us.
And on Thursday we went to a blood drive. To freely give our life-blood to save the life of another.
And on Friday we attended "The Passion of the Christ". And we cringed as we watched the flesh being ripped off of our Saviour. And we wept as He stumbled under the weight of a cross and the weight of my bitterness, envy, and pride. And we ached to see His suffering eased; to see Him come down off that tree with Shekinah Glory for all the high priests and Roman guards to see. But sometimes Glory is a lamb not a lion. And I knew that He stayed up there for me - "so that the Scripture might be fulfilled".
To tell the old, old story, of Jesus and His Love.
"And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for Him, who died for them and was raised again."
2 Corinthians 5:15
