Getting Attached

Day Four: A Resurrected People

I have a pride problem. It comes out at various and sneaky points in time. I really think I can do most things on my own and I typically think my way is usually the best, even if I let you do it your way. Even this morning I was thinking about how flawed we are as people and how I would have designed us differently. Yes, when you think you can do things better than God, that’s a pride problem.

In addition, my pride got the better of me this morning when my dog ate my cross. Boy did he get an earful (luckily the kids had just gotten on the bus). Yes, my beautiful striped cross, with the grain that resembled teardrops of the weak and weary. I guess God thought I was focusing a little too much on the symbol and not enough on the sin it might represent. I tried to develop a beautiful analogy of Ezekiel prophesying something profound (my dog’s name is Zeke). Later in the morning, however I was cautioned not to get too carried away with the analogy. Point taken. (Even though I learned that God told Ezekiel to eat the scroll of his word . . . now that’s funny, right?)

But seriously, how often is it that we get hung up on the person, the messenger, the symbolism and miss the message? God is with us on the most hectic of mornings, during the most peaceful of dreams and during the rantings of a crazy woman whose dog ate her cross. But guess what, there is always more crosses to go around. When I went to school to drop off my son’s cross (which was left on the table beside mine) I asked for another and I received one. So literally, THERE IS ENOUGH CROSS TO GO AROUND.

There is cross for the bitter, angry, depressed. There is cross for the willing and able. There is cross for the hungry and thirsty. Jesus Christ died for all, name after name, sinner after sinner. There is no sin or sinner that is left off the list. Those other sinners are loved and cherished and extended the same gift that I am. I love them despite their struggles, because I struggle. It might be pride or anger or any other number of ways that I mess up, but I am counted and the cross is for me too. I hope this new cross does not have to see Zeke’s teeth, but how blessed am I that the gnashing of teeth will never be something I need to bear because I am a child of the resurrection.