The sun shone with springlike brightness, drawing both Don
and me out into the vegetable patch where we continued to dig and weed and
feed, preparing the soil for hopefully a productive planting.
Inside, I have been washing some windows and generally
tidying up a bit, preparing the house to welcome visitors on the weekend. I
have been cooking and baking, planning and buying, for a few days away next
week with most of the family. (Sadly, not all, as Emirates cancelled flights
from Brisbane, because they transited through Dubai.)
The Maundy Thursday night story in Luke details that it was
as Jesus was still speaking words of guidance to his disciples, that Judas and
the arresting soldiers arrived to take him prisoner. Jesus knew they were
coming, and up until the last minute, he prepared in prayer. Not in sad
farewell admonitions to his friends, but in heartfelt prayer with his Father.
Lord, as my tendency is to slide into Martha-esque
preparations for Easter celebrations and reunions, please pause my busyness and
draw me into quiet, contemplative preparations of my spirit. You, Jesus, prayed
until the final moment; may I trust that with you there is always enough time.
May I walk with you through the sadness and brokenness of
Thursday night and Friday, and into the bright new dawn of resurrection life on
Sunday morning. Show me how to pray without ceasing for the brokenness of this
world in agony, knowing that at just the right moment, the dawn will break and
Jesus, the Prince of Peace, will appear with healing in his wings.
My whole being yearns for Jesus, in this dry and weary land
where there is no water.
