Identity

I can't seem to get away from the issue of identity lately.

I am not thinking about my name, although there is a bit of a story there and we all know what it means to hear our name called out; someone wants our attention, wants to tell us something, wants us for some reason. Often, it is good to hear our name, sometimes, not so much.

What I am thinking about is identity, who we think and believe we are, and who we really are. I am also pondering why this issue, above most others, is the one area our enemy assaults more often then other areas. In fact, I am fast coming to the belief any assault on us will eventually zero in on our identity.

I think we develop our beliefs about who we are, identity, in our family of origin. As a parent of adults I am humbled by the power I had to help my two children develop in this area. I would like to report I was intentional about this important part of parenting, frankly I wasn't. We had dinner last night with our two children. Our daughter treated us all to celebrate an important promotion/milestone in her career. It was a good night and I am blessed by the two adults that call me "Dad".

No matter how any of us were parented, we came away with a fractured view of who we are. I think many of us came away from our families so fractured that an identity overhaul was necessary if we were to get along in life. Some of us turn to career, some to therapy, some to ceaseless activity. All these endeavors will only be marginally successful in redeeming our identity.

At the core of our identity, if we are to hold to a biblical view, is our heart. We are told it is the well spring of life and should be guarded at all costs. It is the center of who we are whether we are followers of Jesus or we are not.

As a Jesus follower, I believe a large part of the full work accomplished through his death, resurrection and ascension is the giving of a new heart, a heart of flesh, for those who submit their lives to His lordship. Paul is telling us this when he writes that we are new creatures in Christ. Another writer I enjoy, Frank Viola, states we are a new species. If you stop to think about that idea, it might just rock your world.

John Eldredge, in his book, The Sacred Romance, outlines an ascension of identities moving from Clay in the potter's hands to Sheep to Servants to Children to Friends to finally, Beloved. I won't cite here his full quote, it's lengthy but powerful. You can find it on page 96 if you are so inclined. The point is, there are many layers to this new identity we receive at our second births. John's view is that we ascend through these to the final identity of Beloved. I think there is truth to this but there are times I must return back to Clay in God's hands when confronted with some things that come my way. All of these identities are important at various times in our lives.

The ultimate identity of Beloved is the one singular identity our enemy is after though. When we finally begin to believe from our core that we are Beloved in the Trinity's sight, so much of who we are and who we are meant to be falls into place. Pieces of the puzzle of who we are snap into their appointed places and potential clarity is offered. It is not easy to finally arrive at the point of deep belief in our status of Beloved and few truly get to that level. It's easier to think of ourselves as Sheep, Children or Friends of God. Belovedness carries a lot of weight that sometimes we aren't prepared to live with. BELOVED is what He calls us, though.

The assault on this identity sometimes comes at our own hands when sin arrives, as it always will. We listen to the voice, either our own, patterned by years of use, or the enemy's voice of accusation. The voice tells us that if we truly are Beloved, we would not do what we've just done. Sometimes we are reluctant to enter into confession and repentance thinking if we wallow in the guilt for a while we will be "cured" of our propensity towards the sin. Of course this is just one more lie we either tell ourselves or we listen to. Guilt-wallowing will do nothing to cure what only Grace can cure. We must always come back to Abba and His Grace when sin enters the realm of our identity.

There are times though, when we are trapped by something and we are in need of another Grace, the Grace of God's people, brothers and sisters who will listen and help us, who may need to come and gently correct and restore our shattered sense of identity.

It is this function, this activity I turn to now; the function we may offer to others of being a part of the royal priesthood of believers. How best may we come alongside a dear one who may be trapped in something too powerful for them to overcome without the Body of Christ coming alongside? At the core of this ministry is gentleness, a gentleness born out of humility, a humility born out of the notion we too may get caught in something too large for us to handle on our own.

It is a ministry of seeing, seeing what is going on; a ministry of listening, hearing what our friend is going through in all its details; a ministry of wisdom, taking care of what is said; a ministry of reconciliation, helping our weak brother to find their footing once again as a Beloved one. Anytime we are prompted to come alongside we need to be very careful in how we approach our friend. Care must be taken to not do violence to our brother.  Let me say this again, care must be taken to not do violence to our brother.

How could we possibly do violence at this point?  There are many ways and unfortunately I have seen this happen often. It occurs when we don't take the time to think carefully about how our weak friend may respond. What will be our strategy if they completely reject us with anger? It also happens when we are so convinced of an issue that we don't really listen well to how our weak friend found themselves in a point of bondage. It also occurs when we do violence to God's identity already bestowed on our weak brother.

At first glance this idea of violence may seem an overstatement, but Jesus made this last point when talking about murder in the Sermon on the Mount. He tells us that when we call a brother "Raca" (most translate this to mean "idiot") we have committed murder, we have done violence to God's identity for our brother.

In coming alongside a weak brother, we need to always be careful to address what we have observed in our friend's behavior, what have we seen that gives us cause for concern. Approaching from this point of view hopefully may open up dialog that will reveal what has trapped our friend; conversation that will give deeper insight into what is going on and what other factors, unknown to us, have brought our friend to needing some help. Wisdom then may flow into the conversation as the Spirit in us and the Spirit in our brother find common ground on which help and strength may be found.

The violence occurs when we jump ahead too quickly and begin to rename our friend's identity, often an identity that runs counter to who God has already called our friend. We must always remember our weak brother is still Beloved. Anything offered in the way of identity that does not support the core of Belovedness does violence to our brother and will probably shut the hoped for conversation of help down in anger.

As mentioned above, Paul tells us to go to another with gentleness because we too may fall into sin and need the ministry of "coming along side". I don't think he necessarily meant we may fall into the same sin our weaker brother has fallen into. What I do think he means is that if we do violence against the identity of our weak brother, we too may find ourselves being treated with the same sin of violence against our identity in Christ.

Belovedness must be guarded at all costs. It has been bestowed at a great cost by Abba, and is the source from which all wholeness flows. It is a wholeness we all crave and hunger for since we are all broken and in need of wholeness.

The ministry of "coming along side" demands care, wisdom and above all, God's love flowing through us to one in need.

Assault

Recently, someone dear to me had an experience that caused them much hurt. They invited all their co-workers over to their home. Having stocked her table with food and drink she sat and waited. No one showed up. No one. As she told it, one person had said they wouldn't make it, but no one else expressed their regrets.

Any of us would have been deeply hurt. This experience for some would have dredged up all the old childhood hurts and fears that were imprinted during those crucial years. As adults we'd like to think we would be above such hurt and disappointment, but if we are honest with ourselves, we too would be deeply hurt.

This hit all the old hurts and they declared loudly to all who might see it on Facebook that she was a loser. Haven't we all had those experiences? Haven't we all struggled at some point in our life with that voice that screams we are a loser?

After a couple of weeks of prayer and thought I felt led to write. This is what I wrote (with some edits) :

"I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened with your girl’s night party. I need to say at the outset that what you did was brave, it is not an easy thing to offer hospitality. It is okay that you feel hurt deeply by what happened. Please see that you were brave and your actions were not something a loser would do.  What we do when we offer hospitality is offer love. A loser can’t really do that.

We have an enemy whose main tactic is to assault our true identity in Jesus. This assault always starts in our family of origin and this is very true of me. I was never given good tools to face this assault, mostly because neither mom nor dad understood this truth. Dad would have considered this “religion” and he had that locked up in a strong box to keep it away from real life. Mom was so damaged from the assault on her she had little to offer to her children. I was left to find my own tools, a search that led into the enemy’s hands. He offered tools that seemed to fit my damage hands and heart. I turned on myself and learned to listen to his false narrative for me.

His whispered words may grow so comfortable to us that he’s now hidden behind the illusion that we are hearing our own thoughts. They are not. It is his assault on us that is designed to sound like us but really isn’t. Your declaration that you are a loser is not your voice, not your heart, not you.

What truly is there in you, your deepest place? I’m not sure I should define that. It’s a path of discovery for you and God to journey on. However, I will say He does not see you as a loser. How do I know? That message is a destructive message and destruction is not part of His voice for us. His voice is one of peace and delight, even in the midst of pain and the hurt that comes in this journey. It may be a gentle voice of reproof but never the destruction that “loser” offers.

This distinction gives us a firm clue about the voice that assaults us. What is the outcome of the voice, is it turmoil or peace? Is it what you really want to think or do you feel pushed and compelled to destruction by the thought? The enemy hides and pushes at the same time so when you sense turmoil, destruction and compulsion, chances are the thought is not of God nor your truest self; there is someone else in the room.  Understanding this distinction of voice gives us insight into the first piece in the Armor of God, the belt of truth; truth of who God is and His voice, who you are in Him and who and what our enemy is up to.

What do I see in regards to the truth of who you are?  I see a woman who was brave to do what she did, a woman who offered love and friendship, a woman who got deeply hurt at the rejection of this offering, a woman who needs to rest in the grace offered by our Father, a woman who can learn to treat herself with that same grace, a woman who can learn to hear better the kind and gloriously transformative voice of the Spirit that resides in her. I also see a woman who isn’t sure she believes all this.

So, learn to rest in Him. Let Him have the confusion you might feel now. Tell Him about how hurt you are. Allow Him entrance into this wound. As transformation begins, and it will, let Him have the wounds one by one as He reveals them. This may take some time but remember, we have an eternity with Him so this isn’t a sprint but a marathon.

He’s madly in love with you even if you don’t feel it. He’s never walking away from you because you’re not sure you will ever “get it”. He sees you, every single line and stroke of every single letter in every single word in every single sentence in every single paragraph of every single page of the story of your life. None of it, the good and the bad, will alter how crazy mad in love He is with you. He’s got this and will whisper into you what your heart yearns to hear. Stop and let some stillness seep into the cracks of your life, you will find Him there.

No, you are not a loser. This I know and I suspect much more is there in you but that is up to you and God to find. He’s got much better timing than I do but He wanted me to tell you all this and tell you, you are not a loser. You are brave. Bravery does not flow from losers."

As I wrote this and have reflected on this I know, not too long ago, I too felt I was a loser. It wasn't until I understood that through the full work of Christ I have a new heart that I could trust to hear a different narrative for me, a narrative spoken by the Spirit that indwells me. Until then, I didn't understand well the assault I had been under for the previous 51 years.

We who follow Jesus are hated and this enemy will do anything to keep us from the truth of who we are in Christ. We are redeemed and adopted into the family of God and by this adoption we have the authority of Jesus to stand against this enemy when he seeks to destroy by dredging up the old narrative he designed for us.

Think and ponder this wonderful truth, we belong to the Almighty God who has defeated the enemy.

Bench

Last Saturday I drove up to the Middle Fork of the Yuba river by myself. It is the place where our family and extended families with aunts and uncles and cousins would go and camp together. It was only about 35 miles from the home I grew up in but it always felt like a world away. The road was twisty and turny the last 15 miles but as the years went on the state highway department straightened out the road in places it was possible. There still is a steep and twisty climb into and out of the canyon that holds the South Fork of the Yuba. Every time I drive that road I think of my cousin David.

David and I were close from the very beginning with me being about 5 weeks older than he. He grew up in Napa but our families would get together often for holidays and other times.  When we were both finishing up the 8th grade we hatched a plan, an adventure. We decided that summer we would buy 10 speed bikes and ride from my parents home to the Yuba river and camp by ourselves for a few days. Neither of us knew if our parents would agree but we gave it a shot. Surprisingly they agreed. To this day I have the letter David sent me, special delivery, with the envelope back flap saying, "She said yes!!!!!!" meaning David's mother.

It was a long ride up and we had a real adventure with a few days camping on the river we both loved.

As it happens, we both grew up and we grew apart. We rarely see each other. A few years ago David called me and wanted to get together. He drove to my house, we had lunch together and ended up on a park bench on the state capitol grounds. We talked for a couple hours. It was good.

I'm currently sitting on our front porch. We have a small round table and two inviting chairs. I've had more than one significant conversation with people in these chairs. It is one of my favorite places.

We use to have a bench out front. It was a good bench but only fit two people rather snugly. I didn't spend as much time out front as I do now but I liked the bench, I like benches in general. They seem to be a visual invitation by some unseen person to sit for a moment, alone or with someone.

I've noticed something lately about how we tend to speak of our relationship with God. It is more often than not centered around us learning something. I often hear, "I think God is wanting to teach me something in this situation." As I've noticed how often I hear similar phrases from many people I wonder if this is how He wants us to primarily think of Him? Is this the main way we've taught people to relate to God as the cosmic school teacher whose only goal is to get our lessons learned?

I've also noticed how often people mention that God is working on them over some issue in their life. It seems like we see Him as the cosmic trainer trying to make us better. I suspect we are complicit in this because we believe if we are better He will love us more. It only stands to reason that He will always be about working on us about something.

Then there are those who are just a mess, broken and they know it, shattered and laying in a heap. I hear from those folks the expectation that God primarily needs to put the pieces back together so they can get on with life. They expect He's mainly about scooping up the pieces and putting things back together, impatiently waiting for the next mess He will have to clean up. I think many in this camp think God is mostly put out with them as He waits for us to stop making the messes we often make.

I'm not saying He isn't this type of God, that He isn't interested in us learning, or our transformation or the broken messes we get ourselves into. These are important issues He is interested in. Rather I'm suggesting He might want to have a different relationship with us.

Picture a bench. Its a wide wooden bench with a curved back all painted white. Its situated on a slight rise giving anyone who sits a view of green grass rolling off into the distance. Large oak trees are dotted in the green field and in the distance is a soccer field. Behind it are several evergreens that give a gentle enclosure for the spot of invitation.

You've driven past this spot many times on your way to work and running errands but today you stop. You've had one of those days where your own stubborn broken places have reigned. Your mouth accurately reflected an attitude you are now ashamed of. It's old territory for you and you are weary of the cycle you find yourself in. You need to give yourself a little time before finishing the drive home. You take a deep breath and on the exhale you pray, "God, I can't do this anymore".  It is then you notice the bench for the first time. "Had it always been there?", you ask yourself.

Unthinking you leave the car behind and make the short walk up the slope. You stand there at the bench and wonder if you dare take the time to sit, dare to expect God might be in this moment. Its then you notice the little desire creep into your mind and a voice, "Sit here with me". "Is it possible that He really wants to sit with me after the day I've had?" It seems almost scandalous but you sit and pour it all out to God.

Is it at all possible that God is saying, "Yes, I see all this, I know this pattern in you well and we will work on this but first things first. Just sit with me and know that you are loved, even the broken places that trip you up time and again. Just sit with me and let me love you, know you are loved. Now look up and see, take in this park. Notice the children playing soccer. Let me love you first before all other things that seem so pressing to you."

Is it at all possible that God first wants to be known by His love for us before all the other roles our needs thrust upon Him? Is it possible we can simply sit, side by side with Him on a bench letting our expectations of Him melt away?

Friend

I grew up in a rural part of Nevada County here in California. Friends were few and hard to come by. A family moved in fairly close to us, a family with 5 kids. Kevin was #3, a year younger than I and we really hit it off. We would hike and ride our bikes all over the countryside following the many deer trails that laced around our hills. They moved away and back in our area three times through those wonderful years. To this day I remember Kevin's birthday, May 19th.

I didn't have any other friends growing up. I don't recall being bullied in school, I was just ignored. Outside of my friendship with Kevin, I was lonely. I really didn't learn well the skills of making friends so having good friends has always been difficult for me.

I'm sitting on my front porch thinking about the friends I do have and I long for easy friendships. For a few years I had another Kevin who lived 3 doors down from me. He would often come and ask to go for a walk or just sit with me and we would talk. We shared much of our lives as we talked. I trusted Kevin. Things fell apart between us and eventually he moved up to Washington. To this day I miss this second Kevin.

My closest friends are scattered, Indiana, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Florida, West Virginia, Texas and Saudi Arabia. These men know me well and we maintain our connections through a private Facebook page. I do long for them and wish geography was kinder to our relationships.

I have friends here but finding time is always difficult. I have one friend who meets with me weekly on Tuesday nights for dinner. Its a good friendship but I wish time was easier for us. At times dinner feels forced, something we've done now for over 10 years. He is the Executive Pastor at the church we attend so often our conversations revolve around church issues.  I am no longer on the Elder Board so he often is careful about what is said. I understand but there is a bit of a barrier now that once was not there.

Years ago we had a couple we were close to. We spent a lot of time together and we could be spontaneous in getting together. I think I value friendships where we can be spontaneous and not have to work hard to carve out time together. That does something for my heart when someone will just want to be with me and it doesn't have to be something planned into a schedule.

This longing I feel tonight has caused me to remember something Jesus said to his guys that last night together in the Upper Room. He called them his friends. I wonder if telling them this meant as much to them as it would if I'd been there that night.

Friends. Its a word that has lost some meaning in our virtual culture. We have Facebook friends, my list of several spans most of my years with a few even from those years in elementary school and high school. But are they the kind of friends that Jesus was talking about that night? We almost dismiss Him saying this through the culture we find ourselves in. My friends from church are almost only seen through that context, either on Sunday morning or the weekly Bible study I lead. These are casual friends that have busy lives and are not able to offer to one another the kind of friendship I think Jesus was speaking of.

This kind of friendship cannot be casual. He offered an invitation to friendship with God. What He spoke of in those chapters in John (13-17) was an intimacy that can transcend all the barriers I sense in my earthly relationships. Geography and schedule offer no barrier to the friendship with God that we can have.

I have thought much about my own longing for friends. All those that have come and gone out of my life have given me a glimpse into the friendship offered by Jesus to me. As much as I desire friends who will simply come and be with me, warts and all, I realize Jesus, through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, is here with me as my friend.

As true as this is, I do think He desires for us to be good friends to one another. I realize my lack of skills in being a friend hinders some of my relationships. I am praying Jesus' friendship with me will help me to learn better how to be a good friend to those He has given me.

If you are reading this and know me personally, know that I love you and would love to have more time with you.

Ledger

Even after all these years I still enjoy watching Antiques Roadshow. If I ever could get tickets if it came back to Sacramento I have some pieces of furniture I would want appraised. One piece is an old armoire we purchased years ago when we lived in Minnesota. It stands a little over 6 feet, has a beautiful mirrored door with the original mirror. I put shelves in it and we use it for storage. I probably did some damage to its value by putting in the shelves but I still have the original shelf and hooks originally used for hanging clothes.

The other two pieces were formally owned by my wife's adoptive grandmother. A bureau with four drawers is thought to have been in her family for years and came over on a ship from Scotland. Its in pretty good shape, all original.

The other is a beautiful book case with three sliding glass doors with the original glass. It has "HFF 1904" carved in it. The story is that grandma's father, a prominent physician in Boston, was given it for payment of services rendered by a woman named Helen Francis French, thus the HFF. It has been passed down to several family members for several years. When my wife was a little girl the bottom shelves held her great grandfather's medical books from when he was in school.

Of course the value of anything is determined by market forces. Often on the show an appraiser has to tell someone the market has gone soft on something and the value has shifted downward. It is market forces at play that determine the value of anything.

Its all in the ledger, isn't it? We live in an era where value means everything and everything is for buying and selling.

Unfortunately this way of thinking has influenced how we think of our relationship with God. We tend to keep an internal ledger and we add or subtract to it based upon how we think we are doing. This ledger keeping is a feeble way to live though.

I recently came across a familiar phrase in a familiar passage, I Corinthians 13, "Love does not keep an account of wrongs." Most of us are familiar with this chapter and its incisive description and value of love. What struck me was how well do I love myself? I know the context is about how we should treat and love one another but I turned it inside and found I keep a ledger I hold against myself. We tend to keep a ledger of our sin, don't we? Perhaps what Paul might have also been saying is that we don't love ourselves well if we turn this chapter around and let it read us.

I am also reminded about what Jesus had to say about sin, some very specific sins He addressed in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapters 5-7. He really paints us into the corner doesn't He? If you call a brother an idiot, you've committed murder.  Yikes! That hits close to home most days on my commute, its a bloodbath out there on the roads most days.

I am not suggesting here we be soft on our propensity to sin but I am saying that if it is true about confessing our sin and He is faithful and just and will forgive, then why do we still keep the internal ledger that we use against ourselves? What I am suggesting is that we stop keeping the ledger. It really does no good and is a poor way to decide how we are doing with walking with Jesus.

He said it was finished on the cross. If this is so, then why do we continue to hold these things against ourselves? He said it was finished, we too must accept that we are forgiven. Holding the ledger sets us up for more sin. It does not cause us to sin less.

What will keep us is following the first and greatest commandment, loving the Lord our God with all our heart, mind and strength. Falling in love with the author of love is what will keep us. The ledger does nothing.

Shirt

Suppose you have a favorite shirt. When you first received it as a gift you really liked it. The color for you was perfect and it had the greatest pattern to it. New shirts have such a great feel to them and you wore it often. Mostly, at first, to nicer events. It wasn't a super dressy shirt but wearing it made you feel good, not so much special but you did know you looked good and felt comfortable wearing it.

As material often does, over time it became less "new" feeling but you still wore the shirt often. Maybe you no longer wore it for semi-dressy events but you could still wear it when going out with friends for a casual meal together.  You just liked wearing it and it was hard not to reach for your favorite shirt hanging in your closet.

Other shirts came and went, cycled through your closet but you still would reach for this favorite one, even if just for wearing around the house. You knew it was looking worn and probably should be retired but you can't bring yourself to setting it aside permanently.

One day while cleaning out the garage you accidentally bump into something sharp and you feel your shirt catching and ripping a little hole in it.  In horror you realize you'd reached for your favorite shirt that morning without even realizing it and now this favorite garment has a hole. Even though it is probably ruined you can't yet part with it and it is hung in your closet one more time.

While shopping one day in Kohl's your eye spots a shirt very similar to your favorite shirt. It isn't exactly like it but the pattern is similar and the colors are very much like the one still hanging limply in your closet. You pick it up and feel it.  The material is high quality, probably better than the original shirt you can't part with. It's a bit on the expensive side but throwing caution to the wind you purchase it and rush home.

Hanging next to the old shirt, this new one really does closely resemble your favorite shirt.  You close the closet door and try to push the crazy thought out of your head. Call it crazy loyalty but you finally decide to do something almost unthinkable.

Taking both shirts out of the closet, you take a pair of scissors and cut out a small square of material out of the new shirt and sew it over the rip in the old shirt. The problem is, no matter how careful you were in sewing the patch onto the old shirt you realize too late; both shirts are now ruined.

Yes it is a crazy story and logic would keep one from actually doing such a thing, so why would Jesus offer such a similar story to his listeners? Of course it was never about the shirt or the material, something else was on His mind that day.

We would never do such a thing, would we?

He went on that day to tell about the futility of putting new wine in old wine skins. The old skins would eventually burst ruining the wine skin and wasting the wine. I love a good glass of wine and we live near hundreds of wonderful vintners so we often take an afternoon and do some wine tasting. Our modern production techniques no longer use wine skins for aging wine so the rest of Jesus' story might get lost if we don't stop to look past the burst wine skins and wasted wine of ancient wine making.

The kingdom He is illustrating in both these short stories is about newness. He didn't come to patch up the old nor would He pour the new life He offers into old wine skins. This is about redemption and transformation. We must become new creatures to contain the new life. His complete work offers not just new life but a transformation of who we are. Paul speaks of this when he tells us we are new creatures in Christ.

If this is true then why would we want to patch the old shirt with just a scrap of the new shirt? We do tend to do this, don't we?

Remember

Good Friday is nearly here and I am aware that too often we rush to the joy of Easter without some sober remembering of what happened that day.

My good friend Bill says that a big part of worship is remembering, remembering what we learn God has done in Scripture and what He has done for each of us personally. Hopefully those two knowings don't reside separately but rather reside intertwined in a way that draws us deeper into Him, into the awe of intimacy with the God who spoke all of this into existence.

I want to remember and honor what that Friday was so long ago, what it must have felt for His disciples and for those that loved Him. I also want to remember and honor the high cost the Incarnate God paid for my entrance, my adoption into His family.

I want to remember how, in the end of John 14, He says to the remaining 11, "Let's go".  He was a man facing a horror none of us can imagine and I am sure He, as fully man, must have felt sick to His stomach, but He gathered up His band of followers and heads out for Gethsemane.

I want to remember how His heart desired to be attended by His dearest friends as He prayed there in the garden. I want to remember how He must have felt disappointed in those that could not stay awake as He prayed.

I want to remember His words pleading for this "cup" to be taken from Him but His submission, "Not my will, but yours". I want to remember He sweat drops of blood due to the anguish headed His way.

I want to remember that upon seeing the band headed to arrest Him, led by Judas, He asks peacefully, "Who do you seek" and when they say, "Jesus of Nazareth", He answered with the deep dignity of choice, "I am him who you seek".  It is such a bold statement they have to ask again.

I want to remember Judas' kiss of betrayal and the scattering of all but a couple of disciples.

I want to remember the three trials, the questions and His willingness to hand Himself over to Rome.

I want to remember His beating, being spit upon, the scourging and the crown of mocking thornes He wore on His way carrying the instrument of His death, the cross.

I want to remember the nails, His nakedness, His suffering, His final words.

I want to remember and show solidarity with those who've gone before.  I am thinking here of those gathered that day in the shadow of the cross, those that loved Jesus and could not believe what was happening. Could not believe it and yet could not set aside the fact He was hanging right before them dying as they wept in grief, shock and horror.

Yes, we know how this all ends, and in a few days they will as well, but I think it is important to remember that day as it was and identify with those that loved Jesus who had yet to fathom the next few days and the coming resurrection.

I also think about those who may have been smiling at the demise of the itinerate preacher who would not go away.  The Pharisees had been plotting for some time for this day and it could not have worked out better for them.  I doubt they were whoopin' and hollerin', that kind of behavior was beneath them, but sly smiles amongst themselves as they continued to whip the observant crowd into a frenzy would not be beneath them.

There probably were some there who were whoopin' and hollerin'.  I imagine a whole host in the unseen world who gleefully watched this man's death. They might have been dancing around the foot of that cross. They thought they'd won.

Nowhere are we instructed to observe Good Friday in any particular manner. However, I do want to remind myself again of what my friend Bill teaches, remembering is a large part of worship. Traditionally we set aside one evening to remember with some sober respect the high cost paid for our redemption.  It really comes down to perhaps one hour or 90 minutes out of an entire year where we corporately try to absorb what that day meant for the one suffering on our behalf and to show solidarity with those who loved Him and who were caught up as they watched Him die.

I remember with a sober respect what was done for us, and I also remember to show solidarity with those grieving that day.