When the Cowboy told me last week that he had Good Friday off of work and that we were taking the fam up north to buy a new van, I felt a bit angry and quite ridiculous if you want to know the truth. I mean truly... who spends the day that Christ suffered on the cross, in a tiny little cubicle signing papers for some monstrosity for themselves? Apparently, we do.
And the first half of our long drive north was taken up with a lengthy little discussion about needs verses wants and how I just might have to face the fact that we are no longer a "small" family. And it's hard for me to think that things are changing and I DON'T like change.
And I'm sitting there in the passenger seat trying my hardest to not get all worked up, to just go with the flow, to just trust the Cowboy, cuz the truth is he's right on this one. Maybe it's just bothering me even more because it's Good Friday and I'm thinking about how un-spiritual I feel and I'm wondering how we ended up here__ in this car__ driving north to get a different car__ On Good Friday??
The drive gets quiet and I'm thankful for a break from myself and the pessimism that can sometimes over take me, when I get a text from a friend... a text that takes me to a place that I had no idea I wanted to go on this Good Friday.
She tells me that she's been up most of the night and that she thinks the Lord might be asking her that stinging question... the one that seems to keep popping up in my life... "Will you let go?"
And a few hours later when she texts again and confirms that indeed, her precious little baby is gone, I find myself thinking the least likely of things... what a strangely intimate gift that He might give on a Good Friday in March?
That although the sting and the hurt are in no way lessened, there is this tenderness in His decision to chose this day, to ask my friend that question.
Because the thing is, on this very day, He let go too.
On this day in history, he lost his precious one too.
And that He would take the time to draw my precious friend so close to Himself, on such a day as this, there is somehow a great sweetness in the sting. And alone in my thoughts, looking out the window as we drive down the highway, I can't help but thank Him that He would chose to draw her so near. Today just might be a day that she'll never forget, a day that might just allow her to see her sweet Savior like she has never seen Him before. It's no coincidence that He would chose today of all days.
We're on our way to buy a van, and in the ordinary-ness of driving up the highway with a car full of treasures and a gracious Cowboy who listens to me wrestle with my own thoughts, and a text that becomes a window into Himself, I remember that I need only to let Him do His thing in me, in His time, with His purposes.
We bought the van. It's big. It will be a blessing for our growing family.
And on the way home the Cowboy comes up with the best idea of the day and again I'm reminded that He has plans for me. And the thing is, His plans are sooo much better than mine!
I wanted to go this church service thing that was going on tonight. I thought it would make me feel like I was doing something right on Good Friday.
But instead the Cowboy convinces the dealership to detail our Suburban. We had already worked out a deal to sell it to this amazing family for a certain price.
But instead the Cowboy throws it out there, "What if we just gave it to them for $1?" And my entire face LIGHTS up! And my heart feels like it's about to burst because I cannot even tell you how many times the Cowboy and I have been on the receiving end and how many times I have cried tears of joy at the very tangible miracles that He has provided over My Joey and I. And to think that we would have the honor and the privilege to pass along His love in such a way on a Good Friday in March??? Wooohoooo!! We brought our friends the Burb. And ALL of us were royally blessed! :)
I didn't know that today would hold the things that it did. It's hard to really grasp what He did up there on that cross... the sin that He removed, and that relationship that He lavished on us instead. I couldn't have mustered up on my own the ways that He showed me Himself today.
Why is it called "Good Friday"? I wonder if it has to do with the fact that His definition of "good" is so much different that all I've ever known.
It's often in the sting that we truly know, that we know, that we know, His peace.
It's often in the giving away that we can taste His sweet sweet joy.
It's when the whole sky turns black, and the earth quakes, and the veil gets torn in half, and the blood drips, and the desperation has never been so mysterious... It's on GOOD Friday that a broken world begins a journey into unimaginable hope.
