Humble pie tastes bad no matter if it’s baked, broiled, grilled, or ala mode with a cherry on top. And I had a hefty serving of it last evening.
Our church has an evening of testimonies prior to every communion service. And since communion is on Good Friday, we had our testimony time last night. Well it was our turn to stand up and give our testimony. Lowell takes the microphone and begins his testimony while I’m standing there holding the baby and trying to have eyes in the back of my head keeping tabs on the four kiddos sitting on the bench. Wyatt is beginning to squirm and fuss when all of a sudden a shriek erupts behind me. Logan is outraged because Megan took something he wanted and he’s going to let the whole church know about it. I try to quiet him up and Terrel stands up to tell me who took what and who had what first.
By this time, Wyatt is producing an all-out howl, Megan is trying to give me her version, and bless his soul, Lowell is still giving his testimony. How he was able to keep his wits about him is amazing! He got done and handed me the microphone and took the baby and Logan out. I took the microphone which now felt like a hot potato and gave my scatterbrained testimony and all the while could feel my cheeks lighting up. So now you know why my humble pie tasted really, really bad. On the way home we were talking about how having children keeps you humble. I told Lowell that by the time I’m sixty I won’t have a scrap of pride left. Five little Grabers take turns deciding who is going to keep Mom humble each and every day.
So that was the start to this week that leads to celebration of our Lord’s death and resurrection. I absolutely love Easter Sunday! There isn’t much that can put me in a bad mood on Easter. Now having said that I’m sure one of these little munchkins will consider it their personal obligation to test my theory on that come Sunday. I hope you all have a joyous Easter! May God bless each and every one of you.
Love, The Idaho Grabers
One Little Breath
Taking one long, last look at His son, the Father slowly turned around. Tears coursed down His cheeks as each step took Him farther away from the hillside. “Father!” the cry sliced through the air, shoving a dagger into His heart. “Why have You forsaken Me?” Another step . . . another tear . . . yet the Father kept on walking. To save the world, He must reject His very own Son.
Soon He was gone, the hillside void of His holy presence. And in His absence came the powerful realm of evil as demons swooped down upon the Son as He labored for each breath. “This is the end,” Satan himself cackled into His ear. “You will die and be no more. Everything is now mine. These humans did not want the message You had to offer. So now they are mine.” Demon after demon came to mock and torment until it seemed the hillside and the heavens above it were filled with the very stench from the pit of hell.
Silently the angels there lowered their heads and folded their wings. They did not understand this turn of events that was unfolding between the Father and the Son before their heavenly eyes. There was nothing they could do without a command.
All the eyes of heaven and hell were riveted upon the Son. Now that the Father was gone, would He call out for help? The angels were tense, ready should the word escape His lips.
Wait. He was struggling for breath and His lips were moving. Every angel’s hand went to his sword in unison, every angel’s heart ready to do battle for the love of the Son. What was it He was whispering? “It . . is . . finished.” His head fell forward with a jerk as the last breath left His earthly body. A cry went up in the spiritual realm that had been unmatched unto its day. Demons were cheering while angels were weeping. He had not called out and now He was gone. Defeat so palpable you could feel it hung in the air as the men took the body of Jesus down off the cross. Wrapping it up in linen, they placed it in a tomb.
Yet the realm of evil was worried. Who knew what this Jesus and His followers would do? Hordes of demons surrounded the tomb in the lonely Judean hillside. For two long nights, they watched the tomb where He had been laid. All was silent, so very silent. It felt as though the earth itself held its breath . . . waiting.
Just as the sky began to brighten with the light of day, a sound pierced through the cold morning air. Satan hissed, “What was that?!!” All eyes turned to see the prince of darkness quaking with uncontrollable fear and rage. An eerie stillness swept through the ranks of demons as the sound came again.
It was a breath. One little breath.
Such a tiny, little breath, yet it ripped through the demonic world like an earthquake and left them trembling. One tiny, little breath that echoed and echoed through the air until all heaven itself pulsated with the sound of breathing. One tiny, little breath that resounded throughout the corridors of the Almighty until it came to rest at the throne of the Father. One tiny, little breath that continues to shout out its victorious message down through the ages with a clapping thunder. One little breath that forever changed history and sealed the doom of Satan.
Such a little breath. What will you do with that one little breath?