Right now I am sitting by my bay window, and I can hear water dripping off the roof onto the gravel beneath. It sounds like it's raining (it half is I guess with the wet snow) and I miss that. There's something about rain that refreshes everything in it's wake.

I'm thankful for this moment.

Little reminders of who I really am...

A good friend of mine reminded me today how truly blessed I am. He reminded me that every breath I breathe comes from God, and it is only by him that I have life.

He reminded me that God has given me everything I need, and yet God owes me nothing.

He reminded me that partaking in the empty things leaves you just that, empty... and partaking in the things of God; service, community, church, the bible, right relationships... well as he would say; "what more do ya need?"

God, I want to live as if my life is lived by someone else; your Son Jesus Christ. If there's anything in me that does not fit with you, may they be stripped away. I know that in order for me to truly live, it must be this way. Jesus is risen! May he arise within me. May I become less and he become greater.

The Passion week is one of the busiest "work" weeks of the year if you work in a church.

This year serves as no exception for me... but as I have been planning for different services and events for the week, I have found the images of the cross grabbing ahold of my heart in such a profound way that it is actually changing it.

The image stuck in my head is that of Jesus carrying the shame and sins of the whole world on his shoulders in the form of an old, ugly, wooden cross.

The weight is so heavy that he falls, not once, not twice, but three times underneath it. I can almost visibly see the beaten and bloody face of Jesus looking down into the dirt under the cross, feeling helpless, feeling abandoned, knowing death is near. I can see the humanity in his eyes, but his determination to continue bearing his cross, walking the road to the place where they drive nails through his flesh, shows me his divinity.

What pain has he not felt? What sorrow has he never bore?

What kind of love is this?

Blood is poured from the body of Jesus as he is nailed to that wooden cross, it's all I can see. The blood has covered the cross. The blood is pure, it's innocent. The blood is payment for my sins, it has covered them as it's covered the cross. The blood... It's supposed to be mine.

Will I accept this love? For in accepting it, I am saying NO to the empty kind of love I find so easily, taking the wide and simple road.

The way of the cross, the way of love, is a road less travelled... It is harder to do, and it's sometimes harder to accept.

Jesus, I see you. I see you carrying the cross... my cross. Help me respond properly to this.

famous ones

So I don't know why I was thinking about this today, but as I was driving home from work at Starbucks I was remembering the famous people that I have served coffee there over the year I've worked there now. These are their names:

1. Stu Grimson
2. Ace Burpee
That is all.

O.k. so maybe they're not really famous (although if you don't know them you can find them on the Google) but it's funny how I remember those experiences so clear. I can remember what they said, what their facial expressions looked like, even what they were doing that day.

Ace was going skateboarding at the forks early Saturday morning so he could beat the rush of young kids in the afternoon, and Stu was in town during the Christmas holidays all the way from Toronto to visit with the in laws.

As I pondered this I thought about my other job, at the church, and the most famous people to ever come in there. These are their names:

1. God
2. David Rae

No big deal right?

See, it's crazy that we think like we do. The fact that the maker of the universe is among us week after week, and I can hardly recognize he's there let alone remember what he looked like, what he said, or what he was doing, causes me to think something is a little off kilter... right Dave?

song mix up

I usually am pretty good about singing the right words when I get up to lead the music on a Sunday morning.

I can even get the words of difficult hymns with Shakespearean language that is like reading a tongue twister.

I seemed to have a brain lapse this week as we sung the (newer) song "Indescribable" by Chris Tomlin.

Just for the record, if anyone heard the mix up in words, "whorehouses laden with snow" are just as detrimental as ones in summer climates, and for me, they don't produce a kind of awe that inspires me to praise God. Just in case you were wondering...

oopsie daisy.

Tired of winter yet?

Me too.

For me, it's when I look at "the weather network" hoping to see improvement in the latter part of the week, only to find out it's somehow getting colder.

Today, however, as I went for a walk, I was caught up in the beauty of the main side affect of the winter months... snow.

It had been a long time since I'd noticed how brilliant the untouched snow is when the bright sun is beaming onto it.

I was in awe of how "sparkly" it was. You know, I bought Dana an engagement ring to which I think shines pretty good when it's in the right light... but it really doesn't hold a candle to this. This was amazing to me.

I'm thankful for moments like these when the glass that looked half empty all of the sudden looks brilliant and beautiful and full once again.

Your creation, O God, leads my soul to you. If this is how majestic your creation is, how much you must shine...