I am sitting at the computer on Thursday night. Easter was last weekend, and I am still thinking about it.
Several of you have mentioned that I have been quiet lately (translation: no new posts). I have started three posts, but none of them have made it past the first draft.
Last Saturday night my second daughter called me after she had been to our church’s Easter celebration service. She said, “You better get ready.” My daughter knows me.
I wanted the sun to shine that morning, but it didn’t.
I wanted a new Easter outfit (remember when we were young and dressed up for Easter?), but I didn’t get one.
I needed to sit with my daughters, and I did (except one, she was working in the children’s ministry).
I needed to meet the Lord, and I did.
This Easter wasn’t just a celebration of my Lord’s Resurrection Day, but it was my own.
All week long I had been hearing different versions of Leonard Cohen’s song Hallelujah—and this was the first song I heard on Easter morning with some verse changes (see the end of the post for the words).
At one point the worship leader sang out the chorus of Hallelujahs, and I could not contain the overwhelming joy that flooded into me. I could barely contain it. I understood what a fragile jar of clay I really am. I don't know how else to explain or describe how I felt.
It wasn't just a feeling. I felt a pivotal shift within me.
For so long I have felt off-kilter. I had been walking in a long dark tunnel. But on Sunday God moved some rock in my inner terrain, and I emerged.
There are events and points in the faith journey that become markers. Boundary stones. They help us remember what God has done and will do.
Sunday, I laid down a boundary stone.
Oh, the immensity of God!
How great is the volume of his love.
Now I know that You're the God above
You're filling me with grace and love
And I just want to say, "Thank you" to You.
You pulled me from the miry clay
You've given me a brand new day
And all that I can say is, "Hallelujah."