On this, the second day of Holy Week, I am reflecting on the cost of my salvation and the goodness of God in making it possible.
So often when Paul and I pray in the morning, I thank God that he made himself known to me; expressing gratitude over and over again that he pervades my life such that I cannot imagine living without the knowledge of him. He has transformed and healed so many broken corners of my soul, and still continues to soften and gentle me into his image more truly than I reflect it at this moment.
This morning I read a post written by my dear friend Dave Hingsburger: Loud Speakers versus Quiet Words. I wonder why anyone thinks that they can shout people into the Kingdom of God with words that sound like threats. I know that would have repulsed me.
Jesus did get angry and use loud words occasionally, but only with the "religious" and the hypocrites. Mostly he was exceedingly gentle, although he never diluted hard truth.
I once wrote a poem once about my journey to God and here it is:
Not for me the blinding light
Of a Damascus road,
But then, I was no Saul, no persecutor of Christians
hater of Christ
I walked in two worlds, finding both exciting, beckoning,
as I stood on the threshold of my life
For me, the Spirit’s gentle wooing,
How wise, how wonderful, God’s many ways, of reaching us,
His wayward ones
More and more, I became His, until I saw the world, through strangely different eyes.
Things that once beckoned, now had lost their charm,
As He so gently guided me
away from harm