Today someone confronted me…. And instantly my heart sank, as it registered what I had done and what I was guilty of… I felt sick and sinful; unworthy of the calling God has placed on me. Unworthy of His grace, and overwhelmed by my humanity.

Restless, I returned to writing the devotional my agent asked me to write, reading through the most recent chapter. And the truth of the story of Jesus offered hope to my heart…. what He did for me, for us…

****

Written in my own words, how the story plays out in my mind, as I read Matthew 26, and having limited words to tell it, the following as an excerpt from the devotional:

“Wait here,” the God-man said to His inner circle of friends. “My heart breaks so that my soul is filled with sorrow; a sorrow so deep it feels to be drawing the very life from me. Stay… Wait… and pray, for temptation waits to trip you… pray that you will not surrender to it.” And with that He slipped away, leaving His friends behind, night shadows wrapping cool blankets around Him. He walked, willingly into the dark that night until He came to a Garden…

Gethsemane…. Oil press. What a name, on a night so dismal, when the agony was so near to pressing the very life from His compassionate heart… Gethsemane, the place where oil poured generously from the fruit of the Mount of Olives…

Here, in that Garden, the God-man knelt, having found solitude from all but His Abba Father. Human flesh cringed at the burden suffocating a heart most tender, and in that humanness, the God-man spoke in intimate conversation.

“Oh Papa… If there’s any other way… if it is possible, please take this crushing burden from Me. Nevertheless, not My will, but Your will, Papa,” He prayed. And there the blood-red wine began to trickle from His heart, as sweat droplets formed in anguish, falling from His forehead like drops of blood, a symbolic prophesy soon fulfilled.

Having prayed, He went to His disciples and found them sleeping. Three times He prayed. Three times they slept. Each time He roused them, urging them to pray, until the third time; then He told them to rest. For then the time was at hand… That time when disciple-and-friend-turned-foe-and-traitor would come.

Faithless and filled with self, the traitor kissed the God-man’s cheek; a stolen kiss, betraying that tender heart, selling the God-man as if He held no worth. Still, that love flowed, poured out wine, for that one. Because love, when it starts to spill, knows no boundaries; it spills that generously over those who sell it.

Driven by whips lashing hate, a mocking crown bleeding, He stumbled up the hill…Golgotha; the place of the skull, a place of death. Such symbolic prophesy, for from that day forward, Life would spring from places long condemned.

Earth groaned beneath the God-man’s feet, crying for release, as from thorn-pierced brown the blood drops fell, each one a promise of life. A prophesy soon fulfilled…

He reached the top of that hill, and there, in ground long cursed, the haters laid Him on that cross. Nails punctured gentle hands. Life trickled, like wine poured out, blood-red, from His hands and His feet. Then, raised to heaven, naked and for all to see and scorn, love kept trickling without regard for the scoffing.

The spear, ruthless, sharp… piercing through the God-man’s side… Oh prophetic victory! Oh generous love, poured out! For from that piercing, the blood of Christ spilled out, messy and red, staining wood, the ground and cloth on which it fell; leaving an eternal mark. Because Love does that; it leaves a forever mark and flows with abandon… Without straight lines, it spills in reckless patterns, wherever it will travel, on rough and scarred terrain.

Like wine, poured in generous serving, offered with bread, He sustains the life of all who reach for it. His body, broken by hate and rejection like bread shared with hungry, His blood, spilled out like wine on weary lips…. Flowing through us, shared with those around… Without reserve in reckless patterns without straight lines, wherever we travel…

Because that’s what Love does, when it touches our lives and spills over us generously like poured out wine…

****

I am so thankful for what Jesus did on the cross, not only for my sins, but for those I have sinned against, to bring life and healing from ‘the place of death’ and skulls. And I am so sorry for wounding a heart and breaking trust… Praying God will heal and redeem all things.

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger

The past few weeks have been busy, fun, exciting and all around lovely. Having said that, my finger nails are stained–even though I mostly wore gardening gloves–and several sunburned spots are still peeling and healing, and I’ve spent more time in grungy, muddy clothes than I have in years.

July 7, 2008 we took possession of our house which, at that time, had only dirt around it. Not a speck of green vegetation, other than the weeds. The grass went in shortly thereafter, but that’s where it stayed, until this spring. I enjoy flowerbeds and plants but I like to plan them around things like side-walks and steps. And until this year we only had a set of temporary cement steps with a cement tile walkway. It worked.

Several week ago we had a gentleman put in stamped concrete steps and side-walk. And one thing led to another, which led to another and we ended up turning our front yard into a garden. It was only supposed to be a flowerbed around the side-walk, curving around a bit by the road, and again down from the house, with three trees, none of which get super huge, except the Fat Albert Blue Spruce. That one, while shorter than most blue spruce, gets some height to it. And that would all of worked out, except that I don’t know as much about trees and perennials as I wish I did. Having determined that perennial garden is the way to go, I sought the advice of a neighbour who has many gorgeous flowerbeds, years of experience and designs flowerbeds.

She looked at what I had chosen, for plants and trees, along with my ideas of where I thought I’d plant them, and informed me that everything would be overgrown in a few years, and plants would crowd each other out. To this I said, “What would you advise?” and that set everything in motion.

She started rearranging plants and trees (also taking into consideration the things I still wanted to add) and that’s how it happened that our front yard turned into a garden…. I drew a diagram, wrote down the names of low-maintenance plants she recommended, and presented the plan to Tim. Here is the not-quite-completed result:

(Before you look, let your imagination take over, and picture everything about 3 to five years from now, nice and filled out, and this little haven in the middle, with a nice centre piece–maybe a fountain, or a bench/chair, or perhaps a bird bath–and a tall solar-powered post lamp… )

In the back yard we planted a trio of Fat Albert spruce trees, in the far corner, to hide where our neighbours’ fences meet. On neighbour has a nice fence, the other, not so much. But the two meeting partway on our property creates a bit of an eye sore. Well, eye sore no more… when these trees grow a bit taller…

In spite of the beautiful weather–not too hot, and not too cold–I find myself saying things that make my family and friends cringe. I don’t love heat, making this summer the best in many years for me. Even on the very hot days we’ve had cooler nights, creating my dream summer. None-the-less, I am conditioned to loving snow and say things like, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like covered in (a dusting) of snow,” and other wintery statements that slip past my lips, causing family and friends to cringe. To them it seems like the snow only finished melting yesterday, and the trauma of it has not yet worn off… But, after this project, I think Tim might have a new appreciation for snow and all things winter, even shovelling. It’s still much lighter than carrying rocks.

Tim had the past week off and took charge of the project, investing his time and energy to get it done. Having messed up my back a few weeks ago, there were days I was completely useless, other than to give a thumbs up or thumbs down to ideas and suggestions. And, while neither of us is avid gardeners–and even though one of us loves more flowers, the other more greenery, one loves grass, the other rocks, one favours birds and bird baths… if only because they attract birds… and the other would choose a more practical centre piece –we do enjoy the outdoors and will get many hours of pleasure from the garden.

It was also a wonderful opportunity to get to know our neighbours better–Mahlon and Isobel Frey–and spend time working together in their yard and ours. Isobel and I went plant shopping together one day, and we made it to each other’s gardens several times on most other days. We’ve always gotten along well, but through this experience we have developed a friendship and laid groundwork for an ongoing relationship.

As we sweated and sunburned ourselves to get the job done, it struck me, the irony of things. We were created to enjoy gardens, plants, animals and the great outdoors. There, in the buff, we were going to live happily ever after, oblivious to our naked state, and indulging in the wonder of creation, all while in blissful relationship with the Creator. Now we pay for trees and flowers, and fight against the elements to recreate whatever notion we have of what a garden should be, muddying up the clothes we made or purchased, to hide that nakedness.

And that is all included in the price tag for sin… the cost for the knowledge of good and evil. Oh, Adam and Eve, what were you thinking? And that’s about how deep my theological thoughts ran this week…

It has been a lovely break, getting my hands back in the soil, staining my fingers a little, and getting the dirt stuck under my nails. (Gloves don’t cut it for this girl… they would need to reach to my elbows and be made of rubber…) It’s been a time of mental rest, spiritual tranquillity, and inner refreshing. Clients are enjoying their summer break, and I am taking a much needed hiatus from meeting with people–fitting in only the occasional session–so that I can do summer things and finish up my book. And even my book got put on hold for seven days, for the sake of this garden.

Tomorrow it is back to normal life and routine, and the thrill of watching plants grow. I am thankful for a project almost complete, a wonderful husband to help me get it done (the gentlemen reading this understand what the word ‘help’ means here), kind neighbours to interact with, income tax refund to pay for it, and a God who loves us as we bumble and stumble through life.

It’s a beautiful world!

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