I can't crank up sad feelings about what Jesus did. Sometimes they come, some times they don't. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Dry. And then, suddenly, they'll take me by surprise, Tears. Gratitude. I want to hide for fear he singles me out—little-faithed (Mt 17:20), comfort-loving me, and twisted (Mt 17:17).
What then? Make myself available in case he wants to touch me. Fast. It makes me off balance. I don't like it. Go to the Medicine Hat Evangelical Association citywide Good Friday service. Not my style for Good Friday. But who cares? I believe Jesus goes to meet with his people. And I believe I'm more available for his touch when I'm off balance. And then Stations of the Cross at StB. Simple. Quiet. The Good Shepherd is slain. The Bridegroom is taken away. The Celebration of the Lord's Passion and Meditation on the Cross of Jesus. BAS, straight up.
The LORD may meet me in a way that I can feel, or not. It's up to Him. Just because I don't feel Him doesn't mean He's absent.
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