I'm writing a Lenten devotional booklet and have arrived at Holy Week.
The gospel music has been on high and I've been singing along sometimes.
I've been digging into symbolism and getting blown away.
You simply cannot write about Holy Week without crying. The glorious thing at this moment though is that my tears are those of joy.
I have been realizing that under the sadness of the necessity for his glorious obedience and sacrifice, there is a deep strain of joy at finishing the race triumphantly.
My thankfulness and gratitude will never be enough.
I've known it before, of course. Felt it before, of course.
But at this moment, I am overcome with joy and love for Jesus, himself.
(I can only imagine how red my eyes are at this moment. Should make going to work ... interesting.)