She shared my kitchen space with her monogrammed apron which, already, was too small for the body she’d grown up and out of months ago.
This moment reflected her heart.
She cut lettuce and stirred sauce and mimicked what she’d seen me do. She’d learned so much in 9 short months. But hours earlier, He’d pulled back the curtain on her mystery, to me. Her heart was too small for her body. Lanky limbs reflecting her age disguised a heart much younger in years. We poured out from the wells He was pouring in, but her heart could receive only droplets.
She couldn’t comprehend love. She wasn’t yet growing in love because she had never learned the art of receiving. Love, to her, was transactional. Sterile. Give and take. Fair, maybe, for most — but not for her.
Was it a coincidence that all of this surfaced just days before I set my heart to meditate on His last days?
I was once like her.
I forced myself to go through the motions I’d learned of giving, pulling from a dry well. I poured out what I didn’t have and my parched heart pruned like a raisin. He was give and take to me and, by my skewed assessment, my life was defined by lack.
The trajectory began to change when my heart began to receive. Not a new circumstance or a new set of “yes’s” over my life’s “no’s”, but a God-Man.
Adoration is forming a life-habit of receiving. Him. It’s pulling the stop valve on circumstance as the primary means of receiving who He is to us and, instead, informing our perspective on all of life first by studying the lines on His face and adoring what we see.
He has great light to shed on our circumstances, but we often muddle it with our own interpretation. Adoration is this relationship’s — His and mine — greatest starting point. It’s not about what I’m not (something I’m reminded of every day, my weak flesh speaks loud), but who He is.
Praise God for Mondays, when the column on the right-side of my blog moves front and center here. Would you consider the challenge so many others have taken** to adore Him, with me, through the gospels?***
Today, I’m pulling from the fourth of my Holy Week Morning Chai posts. If you haven’t yet, you can read the others here:
A Death-Life Exchange, Even Before Your Death
She, supposing Him to be the gardener, said to Him, “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to Him,“Rabboni!” (which is to say, Teacher). – excerpt from John 20:11-18**
You conquered the world’s limitation, and You called her by name.
She stumbled, unknowingly, to the rock which held resurrection’s imprint. She hadn’t received Your words of promise. She lived her years beside You, but didn’t understand You. She wept for a loss that was, instead, great gain.
Mary’s easter Sunday was still the dark, black night.
This is the flesh You came to save.
You didn’t chastise her lack of expectation or her mourning as unnecessary.
You called her by name.
She didn’t recognize Your stature, or even Your voice. But she knew You by the way You called her name.
Oh, God, so personal — Your victory didn’t preclude You from leaning in to the world’s weakest. You still called her name, with that lilt in Your voice which revealed You not to be stranger with inside information, but friend.
You still call my name with that lilt in Your voice which reveals You, to me, as friend.
I adore You, the One who won with love, for loving me by name.
You saved the world and not one of them escaped Your sight. This first Easter morn, Your reacquaintance with her, provides a lifetime of understanding, unfolding.
God most personal, God most powerful — You hold both.
You see me. You name me. You know that name.
You say that name in a way which only You can say it.
And when the world is trembling with great terror and strife or erupting with the glorious goodness of You coming forth, You still stop on the historic scene to say a name.
Rabboni, my great teacher. You are teaching me with Your love, bold to save humanity and quiet enough to whisper my name in a way that only I can recognize.
I adore You, Father who knows me.
Your resurrection … it’s personal.
Today for all mankind.
But still today for me.
Your eye, still on me.
You may have noticed I no longer have an option for comments on my posts. For a little explanation to this shift, read Why No Comments?
**I absolutely treasure your stories. I love the memorials coming my way. What’s being erected over your lives is fuel in mine: He is good. With a life of four-being-restored and two of us not too far ahead of them, I don’t have as much time as I’d like to respond to every email, message and comment. Though the demands under my roof may not allow much time to respond to these, please know I am honored by what you’ve sent me and the time you took to tell me your story. They are gifts to me.
***For a context to this little space on my blog, read: Why I Adore. For a more detailed description of how to start adoring Him in your day-to-day, read: Showing Up. You can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: http://www.EveryBitterThingisSweet.com/posts/chai/feed or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side.
Photos compliments of Cherish Andrea Photography.