Thorns by Bgrace
I asked Ted once, "How do you keep moving toward the one that wounds you?"
"What does He offer you?" he asked.
Unenthusiastically, I mustered up my best Sunday School answer, "Eternal life."
"What about the very breath that you breathe?" he said.
More breaths, more wounds.
Following God and experiencing intimacy with Him has its moments of wonder and beauty. But it is also very painful. If we want more than just to be known--if we want to know Him, to receive Him, to be changed by Him--than so much of us has to be opened up and taken apart and broken down. We must move through the confusion toward understanding. Through the pain into the wound.
It's excruciating.
Only then can we understand that the cross is the blessing.
Ressurection waits on the other side.
I find myself thinking about what kind of strength Jesus must have had to wear his thorns, to move toward the cross. Look at His struggle in the garden. Knowing what was on the other side didn't take away the enormity of what He would have to go through.
I'm tired.
At this point I'd rather curl up under the olive tree next to John and Peter and take a long nap.
But the wound won't let me. Sooner or later it wakes me up and reminds me that I have something more to do. That there is a reason the wound is there. That it is pushing me and pulling me toward something more. Toward a purpose, toward a greater intimacy, toward home.
And probably toward more wounds.
It's time to grab the thorns.
I'm going to need a lot of breath.
