Resurrection Sunday's a comin'! HALLELUJAH!

For quite a while I have had a book entitled Down Where My Love Lives by New York Times Best-selling author Charles Martin. I forgot about it; it resurfaced during some cleaning over the weekend. It is a “love-this-book-don’t-want-to-put-it-down” read! What I read today, at the beginning of this Holy week, absolutely blew me out of the water! Our creative Lord knew this was the week I needed to read it~ I love Him so much and love how He orchestrates even the most minute details of our lives. I have pondered what I read all day, and wish to share it with you, as you begin preparing for Resurrection Sunday! Friday’s on its way, but Sunday’s a comin’ right behind it! Hallelujah!

(to set the stage): The pastor of a rural AME church has been preaching to his congregation and they are in the process of participating in the Lord’s Supper. He stops the organist, and looking over the people says:

“Before you strut up here, remember what waits…You all face a choice. You can rise form your seat, follow the person in front of you, stroll down this aisle, critique somebody else’s Sunday best which they happened to wear on a Wednesday night, think about how hungry you are or where, when, and what you re going to eat when you leave here, and then kneel, nod, nip and sip, and return to your seat, having thought the bread stale and wine cheap…Or…you can slide form your seat, limp to this rail…reach down, grab these splintery timbers, fall, rest your baggage against it…extend your hands, take tenderly, place the body on your tongue, taste the grit, swallow, and feel the hunger build in your stomach. Then you can grasp this cup…Tremble, sip violently, feel the burn, taste the acrid smell, feel the splinters pierce your elbows, lean more heavily, and then look upon this cross. You can reach up and place your trembling hands on callused, blood-soaked feet, let the red, slippery liquid run down your fingers, underneath your watchband, and come to rest in the crack of your elbow. You can lean your forehead against His shin, notice the crude and rusted nail, the shake and strain in his arms and legs, stick your hand in the hole in his side, notice the dried blood on His face, the thorns poking back, and hear the gurgle drowning out His breathing…Lastly, you can raise your head and feel the breath of God. And in that instant, if you so choose, you can see your own reflection. With all your zits, warts, blemishes, and scars. And there, amongst the scar tissue, are your demons. But having chewed, sipped, and swallowed, you can chase. People, this is where you chase the demons that feed your doubts, your anger, your bitterness, and your lack of faith…every last one….Brothers and sisters, a demon’s job is to kill you. To beat you to death. To rob you of anything that is not painful. This railing is where you give more than you take. Where you steal back. Where you kill what’s killing you Then, having chased and slain, you return….bloody but unharmed, different but the same, changed but unchanged, moved but unmoved. A living battleground.
People, we got hurting brothers and sisters here. Every one of us has a closet, and in that closet, we keep and feed our demons. Some’s more full than others, but they’re all busting at the seams. You all know most of mine. I’ve told you…people, that space between your pew and this altar, between the red velvet cushion and the splintery timbers. Whether it’s twenty feet or a million miles, it’s not a question of distance. It’s one of position…(pp. 83-86, Martin; Down Where My Love Lives, Thomas Nelson, Inc., 2008).