He died unflinchingly and lovingly.

This is Holy Week; a week set aside before Easter to acknowledge and meditate on what Jesus did on the cross and why. This week is about remembrance and reverence for my life in Christ and the unconditional grace and love He has given me in full without any merit on my part.



I live because He died unflinchingly and lovingly for me. He never pulled away when I beat and scourged Him. He never refused to carry the weighty cross in my place. He muttered not a word. He never rejected His Father's will to crush His only Son. He never rebuked the crown of thorns I forced on His sacred head. He never forsook me in His grace. He never stopped me from piercing His side. He let me drive the nails into His hands and feet. He loved me even when I laughed in His stricken and smitten face. He forgave me for the insults I shouted at Him. He looked beyond my faults, and saw that I knew not what I was doing. He died for me because He was my only hope for my wretched soul. My Lord never said a mumbling word, except "it is finished."




"Who has believed our message? And to whom as the arm of the LORD been revealed? He grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that is before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence and there was no deceit in his mouth. Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when he makes an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand." - Isaiah 53:1-10

i find His glory even within the walls of darkness.

Many times I write my titles before I write anything else. Somehow tonight I cannot think of a single title alone that describes what I feel right now and what I am longing to express. My heart is so full of the Lord's grace and my mind is filled with thoughts buzzing to and fro, and never exactly landing anywhere.



It is interesting. I started this blog two years ago with the intent of solely writing about my life--my true and real spiritual life. Then some time after I started this blog, I traversed to other topics which really had nothing to do with my life, and had absolutely nothing to do with my faith. Now these last few months, I have returned to my original intention.



I don't really know when I first began writing, writing that raw and true kind of writing. For a couple of years, I have contemplated why I write anything. I am that kind of person and writer who starts out with good intentions of writing a new post on this blog, and then a few lines down, decides that I don't want to be that honest with the world, or don't like anything I've written. With my being an English major, anybody would more than likely assume that I write with no strings attached, and never find fault in my writing. The truth is, I have a hard time pulling the veil away from my paper and pen, and letting in the world to see the small and weak sketchings of my heart that I've struggled to place on the paper. I find fault in my writing everyday. I never feel as though that anything I write is exactly what I wanted to say. I don't know if what I write is right, wrong, or inaccurate. I don't know if it makes a bit of difference on anyone besides myself, but that's ok. Writing, for me, is not about pleasing the world, but about pleasing myself and more importantly, the Lord.



I wish there was something I could truly and honestly say that would immediately change the hearts of those who need the grace of God. One of the toughest places to be as a believer is a classroom. When I'm there, it is like being between a rock and hard place. Sitting there behind those four walls, I look around and wonder how many know the real God that we're reading about in our literature books, and that He is not just a legacy or an old wise-tale. I find it sad to read about the Lord of my life in a poem or prose, and have a lengthy discussion on it in class, and see how blinded the eyes of some of the people are by the opinions they express. All I can think is, His glory will shine through it all, and maybe by His glory their hearts will be transformed. I pity those who cannot see beyond the veil of darkness and know not Who God truly is and how much life, joy, and grace He offers to His children. When I look into their eyes and empty hearts, I find humility in my own heart and thank the Lord that I know Him. This has been so hard for me lately. I only hope that their hearts will be opened wide open by the words that proceed from my mouth. It is difficult to place myself in their shoes and try to think, see, and feel the way they do about God and Christianity. It is a comfort to read poetry for a class that clearly expresses the Truth of God and His sacrifice, and declares that all things are for His glory, knowing that there are some who need the love of God in their lives. At the end of things, I find His glory even within the walls of darkness.

Brother, he’s suffered like a tree taken down
Wept as he witnessed his dreams carved out
And how can a man just keep walking around
With his heart full of holes

But ooh,
His bow is on the strings
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

Sister carries her loneliness
In a hidden hollow inside her chest
And sometimes all that she wants is an end
To the long, long night

But ooh,
Her bow is on the strings,
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

I haven’t been asked yet to walk the hard roads
Still there’s a sense of deep loss in my soul
In the middle of a party, I’ll just want to go
Home.

But ooh,
My bow is on the strings,
I’m beginning to learn where to find the words
To the song that emptiness sings
Ooh, bow is on the strings:

Glory to God! Glory to God!
This is how emptiness sings, oh,
This is how emptiness sings
Hmmm, hmmm

- Christa Wells



"Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness! Why should the nations say, 'Where is their God?' Our God is in the heavens; he does all the he pleases." - Psalm 115:1-3