I knew something was wrong that Saturday night…
And I got mad.
And I wouldn’t extend even a toe to the other side of the bed.
It wasn’t how this day was meant to end.
So measly apologies were made, enough to allow for sleep.
And we tacked on a few more kind words Sunday morning.
But the real repentance wasn’t felt until church time. We were visiting 4th Avenue. They offered their elders up front for prayer. We accepted. Gary and his wife (strangers, yet family) wrapped their arms around us and prayed for our marriage. To keep it strong, despite a hard season.
It was in that quiet prayer that the Spirit convicted me the most.
And the blood washed over me. Again.
And the resurrection strengthened me, infusing me with his power.
I was sorry.
And I could rejoice.
* * *
Today begins a season of deeper reflection.
Remembering that it is my dusty, dirty sins of pride and stubbornness and self-centeredness that brought Jesus down.
And remembering the light of forgiveness that I bathe in every day.
The light of Jesus.
Remember to repent.
Remember to rejoice.
May you also remember today, and rejoice in His brilliance and grace.
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