I have been thinking long and hard about the significance of this week, and searching for the words to convey the length that Christ went to in order to save me. All week long, the well of words was dry.
I had only gone to Walmart to pick up some dog food and carpet cleaner. But outside, there was a man asking for donations to support a homeless shelter. I didn’t have cash on hand, but he said they would take anything from laundry detergent to feminine hygiene products.
I have to confess, donating isn’t something I normally do. Neediness makes me uncomfortable, and so I typically look the other way. But I met God today in the Walmart parking lot, and he reminded me that what I have done for the least, I have done for him.
More than that, he reminded me that he has never seen my neediness and looked the other way. In fact, when I didn’t have it in me to meet halfway, he came all the way to find me.
That’s the grace we sing about. I once was lost, but now I’m found. He came all the way to find me and restore the relationship that had been severed. He came and found me and called me daughter.
Like the hemorrhaging woman, I want to avoid making a scene. I want to come up from behind to touch him, receiving my dose of grace and slipping away without being noticed.
But he knows my anxious thoughts. From before the first let there be, he was intimately aware of me. Before the stars were spoken, before the first flower budded, he delighted in me.
Before I knew it, I had collected a small basket of deodorant, toothpaste, and soap to give away. I wept up and down the aisles, convicted by the thought of the great lengths Christ went to so I could be clean.
Perhaps it is elementary, but sometimes, God and I need to go back to the basics. I am quick to forget, quick to revert to a life of striving and flailing, trying to fill myself up.
He saw me when I was empty, when I had absolutely nothing to offer, and believed that I could be made beautiful again. He sees my cracked heart and whispers that this is how I can showcase this glory. He is always making me whole.
And he promises to go before me. I will never carry a cross that he did not first carry on my behalf. He went the distance to prove that he was, and is, trustworthy.
He assumed the debt that I owed and could never repay — took my punishment upon himself. If he hadn’t come, I would still be alone, scouring in the dark for something, someone who could save.
He came and he died so that I could come alive.
I don’t ever want to forget.