It is Good Friday.
I pray for humility this week, and God does not simply pour it into me from some golden, Spirit-filled pitcher today.
Today He overwhelms me with a tidal wave.
What could I write on this day that would do it justice?
What could I say that could capture with these pathetic words the grand, most tragic miracle, most humbling moment, most refreshing tears my eyes have ever cried in the remembrance of something centuries old?
Something I brought on. Something we all did.
The nails in flesh.
Tearing at a Savior.
Tearing Him apart.
Ripping and shredding Holiness itself.
The crucifixion of Love.
The brutality, the gore, all my sin in the form of this violence. This violence on the one who did not deserve.
Humbled today? Understatement.
Despite all this sin like a cold winter gust biting my face, like this force thrusting me onto knees, crying unworthy to my Father, I do not grieve as if all is lost.
Because today all is won.
Does it feel that way when sin still encircles my heart, trapping it unless I let my King win? Not always, I my human nature stands ashamed to admit.
But it is the believing: it is the saying, what I work on day in and day out.
The digesting of words, the new life found in words, the true taming of the tongue that is not just speaking positively, that is not just living a life that is pure and clean: it is knowing this fact amidst this humble and saddened day, the only words that matter: His words.
"Freedom is what we have-- Christ has set us free.