Though I didn't purposefully refrain from blogging during Lent, the last few weeks my contributions have been few and far between. That has been a good thing, because I've made time to read more Scripture (mainly Genesis) and had a restful Spring Break in which I managed to completely avoid anything related to work, read a few books, enjoyed time spent with Gaines, visited old friends, and gloried in the grandeur of God displayed in His budding Creation. But something happened today that made me focus more intently on my expectation for tomorrow, when we celebrate the event that cleansed God's people and awakened the New Creation.
Today, of course, is the long Saturday before Easter, "between His death and the rising day, when no one wrote a word, wondered 'Is this the end?'" And so on the day when the disciples were overcome with grief so personal and weighty that none of the gospel writers shared with us its events, I write.
In my preparations for tomorrow's celebratory meal, an easy-to-make Easter pot roast (sorry, no lamb to be found in my local Kroger this afternoon), I needed to marinate my meat in some red wine. As I was pouring the wine and ladeling it over the nice round bottom roast, my spoon slipped and I splashed some of the crimson marinade. It went everywhere-- in my eye, on my face, on my arm, on the pot, on the counter, on the floor-- except, it somehow missed by blazing white t-shirt. If anything, you'd think it would've hit that target. Miraculously (for usually I come out of the kitchen covered in whatever I was cooking) my shirt was spared (and a good thing, too, it is one of my favorites).
This simple little act of grace made me realize again my own weakness and clumsiness when it comes to living a life in Christ. I had been pretty thoughtless with my words earlier in the day, and at the least I deserved a smattering of wine across my shirt. I remembered and was shamed. However, the cleanliness of my clothes reminded me with a joyous release that the price has already been paid. Christ's sacrifice has made me spotless. In God's view, my shirt is always white. Of course I still sin, and will to my dying day, but my redemption is real, and on the final Day of the Lord I will be declared righteous. My hope is in the cross and in the Messiah, Jesus Christ our Lord, who died for the sin of the world. And for today, for one fleeting moment, I got a glimpse of that grace a stain-resistant shirt. A tangible reminder of my Redeemer. Thank you, Father.