Friday, April 10, 2009

Good (it's) Friday

I grew up in a church that didn't put a lot of emphasis on liturgical celebrations. I'm not even sure if that is what you would call it. We didn't really "do" advent or lent. Of course, Christ's birth, death and resurrection were recognized and celebrated. But not by means of a liturgical calendar. We celebrated Jesus with dramatic reenactments of the crucifixion, cantatas, good preaching, and an altar call accompanied by multiple rounds of "Just as I Am".

As a result, I'm not really well versed in things like Maundy Thursday, giving things up for lent or not eating fish on Friday. Err, maybe my Catholic friends used to eat fish on Friday instead of meat.

What I do know is that today is Good Friday, although I've never been completely clear why it's not called Sacrificial Friday or Bad Friday. I also know that "Sunday's a comin'" as many a good preacher has announced from the pulpit (pronounced pool-pit if your preacher's from the deep south).

All I know is that I'm thankful that there was a resurrection following the suffering and death of Christ, much like there will be new life for those folks who lost everything in last nights fires that swept across Oklahoma. And the tornadoes. Last night was a heart breaker. My heart is heavy this morning for those who find themselves unexpectedly homeless, picking through the ashes of what was once the vortex around which their lives whirled.

I don't know about you, but even in its humble, eternally under-remodeling state, home is where the whirlwind of life quiets down for just a little while. It's where I long to be when I'm away. It's where I can wear my sweatpants with dried paint on the butt and no one judges. I'm at peace at home, resting, refueling and refreshing for another dash into the crazy, busy life that I lead.

Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me
And that thou bidd’st me come to thee
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
-Charlotte Elliott-


Judy said...

Cari...I heart your post. Not only about my marvelous Saviour who died for me, but I thought the same thing today about my home town as I was getting my hair trimmed. How delightful every 6 weeks to plop the ever-expanding rear portion of my body into the familiar chair, and have the best pair of hands wielding scissors for the past 15 years make me look beautiful once again. The consistency of "home", not only my humble abode, but the places and people I see... whether it's the beauty shop, the dentist, or our family doctor whom I all dearly love and have appreciated for 22 plus years... I am so content to live in my city as well...albeit it hot, dusty and dry, it's truly home. And home is where the heart is. My prayers are with your people in your state as well as they pick up the pieces, dust themselves off and carry on. God bless them....

jenX67 said...

I agree with Judy - I heart your post. And, even though that song gets maligned by long-time Gen X Nazarenes, it will never get old for me. My father loved it - used it all the time for those altar calls...
I can hardly hear the stories about the fires and loss. It's so devastating.