I have a sister who has lived a hard life. Sometimes the
blows that life dealt her had nothing to do with my sister, but other times the
consequences of some really bad choices were her own fault.
“Cece” was a foster child, abused and neglected by the
people that took her in. Though she knew of Jesus and His love, Cece lived
outside the fence of protection and peace. Already forsaken by family members,
angry Cece grabbed life by the horns and gave it a good shaking. As Cece grew,
so did her rebellion. By age twelve, verbal fights on the school bus turned --------, a few years later drugs and alcohol were involved, and soon
------- and worse followed. Cece bore children, and they were taken from
her. She spent time in prison. She was an alcoholic.
To all appearances she was a “lost cause”.
When Cece was about 40 years old, she found herself placed
in a domestic abuse shelter. Every Friday a couple of women would show up at
the shelter with a hot, homemade meal and then stay to talk, eat, and pray with
the women. One Friday Cece accepted an invitation to come to church with these
crazy women on Sunday.
Much time passed and Cece became a regular at the church.
She even came to other church events and classes. Cece was welcomed into our
homes, accepted into our hearts. Cece renewed her faith in Jesus and decided to
try again to serve Him as Lord.
Then Cece failed. She ran with the wrong crowd, accepted Temptation’s
luscious apple, and left Jesus sitting by the road. But Jesus got up and walked
into her apartment.
“Clean yourself up. Stop your crying. Come on, let’s you get
you taken care of.” The women of our church refused to let Cece fail for long.
Time does not heal all wounds, but God does. God blessed
Cece with a new chance at life. She has been sober for years now. She has
married, reconnected with her children, and most importantly committed her life
to Christ.
I was raised in a church-going family. When I was very young
my family raised sheep, and not surprisingly I was happy to stay in the pen. Surrounded
by parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, there was never a time
that I was forsaken, neglected, or abused. I made a few teenage choices that had
my young legs leaping the fence walls, but nothing that lead me far from my
Lord and Savior.
Finding the perfect mate while attending college, I married
at age nineteen. I finished college, got a job, bore two children to my
faithful husband, and lived the “perfect” life. Now I am a preacher’s wife, a
role which I happily embrace.
Serving communion Easter Sunday, I stood at the back of
the aisle waiting to walk down and pass the plate of bread. I stared out the
back window trying not to hear the gruesome details of a crucifixion. I don’t
deal well with medical gore so instead of listening I began thanking Christ for his willingness to make a
self-sacrifice. Then I heard soft sniffling to the right. As the description of
torture and slow, agonizing death continued, the sniffles turned to weeping.
Rising from her seat, Cece fled the sanctuary.
I finished serving the bread and wine, and then I headed out
to find my sister. Loud sobs and cries had penetrated the walls of the
bathroom, hallway, and sanctuary. I knew where she was.
Patiently waiting outside the bathroom door, I met Cece with
the bread and wine. Our communion that Easter day would be between two sisters
of the Risen Lord. “I can’t believe He did that for ME,” Cece trembled.
“He did it for me too. I love you, Sister.” I hugged and
kissed my friend.
Christ had me penned in and safe when he left the fold to go
find Cece. Leaving me in safety to find His Dear One was not a rejection of me.
He doesn’t love her more than He loves me, nor does He love me more than her
for leaving me in safety.
He brought her home and put her in my corner of the pen.
Then He stood guard outside the fence waiting to attack any wolves that might
creep in. He sacrificed for both of us equally.
But sometimes it is difficult for me to remember that
sacrifice since I so seldom leave the fold now. Breaking the bread and drinking
the cup serve as reminders that I do actually need Christ’s body and blood to
clean me up and keep me safe. Sure, I don’t do any of the “biggies”: adultery,
murder, theft. But I am guilty of the really big ones, the kind that sneak in
and jump an unsuspecting sheep: pride, jealousy, complaint.
To a God so HOLY that we can’t even say His name, what
appears to humans as minor personality flaws look to Him like black holes of
putrid filth. And even so, He gave His all for me.
“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me- just as the Father knows me and I know the Father- and I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life- only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father.” John 10:14-18
“Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by
observing the law, rather through the law we become conscious of sin. But now a
righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law
and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in
Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned
and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace
through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus."
Romans 3:20-24
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