Celebrating Grandparents' Day with No Grandparents

Since today is grandparents' day and i just lost my grandmother, I wanted to take a minute and post about her.  This will probably be long, I am sorry, so you can scroll on if you like.  

It seems like the more funerals I go to, the harder they become.  Is it because the older I get, the closer I am to the people I lose?  Is it because I have less people that I love left?  My uncle might say that it's because it reminds me of my own mortality.  I think it's because as the scales are tipped, as more people I love wait for me in heaven than are left here on earth, I get homesick.  It's because it's harder to brave this wretched world without those people in your corner.  My grandmother's preacher talked about my grandma being a prayer warrior and it struck me that I lost one more person that advocated for me in prayer.  

My grandparents were my ideals.  My grandpa was the greatest man I ever knew and I want my son to grow up to be like him.  My grandma was the greatest woman I ever knew and I want to be like her when I grow up.  I am not saying they were perfect--I know better.  My grandpa was strong, but funny and ornery.  He had huge hands that built houses, but could cradle my babies with pride and softness.  My grandma was really the only babysitter I ever knew as a kid.  We played dress up and she gave us big spoons to dig in the yard and she sang songs to us, putting our names into them.  She was funny and strong and ornery too.  Once when my brother was little and throwing a fit, she threw herself down on the couch and had herself a fit.  My brother stopped and stared, probably wondering what in the world happened when adults lost it because he'd never seen such a thing before.  Grandma said later that she had to pick herself up before she lost control.  She added that she knew why kids threw fits--it felt good!  Five years ago, when she had breast cancer, she opted for a mastectomy because she didn't have time for chemo or radiation because she was taking care of my papa, who was in the late stages of Parkinson's.  She came home from surgery and got busy doing laundry, kicking it down the hall, and swearing when the kids protested, that she wasn't lifting anything.  She broke her wrist about two years ago, falling in the parking lot of the store.  She did her shopping, including lifting a heavy bag of cat litter or cat food, and drove to my mom's house.  She saw mom was busy doing laundry and said they could just go to the doctor "next week."  She ended up needing a steel plate and screws to put her wrist back together.  And even with a diagnosis of stage 4 pancreatic cancer, she still had her sense of humor.  A nurse was asking her routine questions before a surgical procedure and asked my 88-year-old grandma if she could possibly be pregnant.  Grandma had several liters of fluid built up in her abdominal cavity and she certainly looked very pregnant.  Grandma rubbed her belly and said, "Oh yes, I am due with twins any moment now!  I'm going to get my name in the papers!"  Everyone in the room burst out laughing.  

She rapidly declined and rather than the guess of 3 months the doctor tentatively gave her, it took only 3 weeks and her pain was over and ours began.  Four years and 22 days after we lost Pops, grandma joined him.  I've tried to quantify why I have taken this so hard.  The only thing I can coherently bring together is that I feel lost.  My mom is the only parentage I have left.  No grandparents, no great-grandparents, not even my dad.  We have a 5 generation picture up on the wall in our living room, taken 15 years ago when Arrena was a baby.  In 15 years, we are down to 3 generations.  If I feel that way, I have no doubt that my mom feels even more lost than I do, since she is now the matriarch of our little family.  Have you ever seen the Facebook meme about looking around for an adult and realizing you're it, so you start looking around for someone adult-ier?  My mom no longer has anyone "adult-ier."  She moved a block away from my grandma when Pops died so they could take care of each other (because grandma was a natural caregiver and needed to do that) and much of her life revolved around her mom.  And yet, she seems to be holding up better now than she did before grandma died.  It was the anticipation, she said.  However, I was stoic before and now I am grieving.  

But, we don't grieve as those who have no hope.  When I say I have hope, it's not in the "wish" sense of the word, it is in the assurance as strong as I know that I am breathing and my fingers are typing this.  My grandmother and my grandfather and my dad and others are this minute in heaven with Jesus.  Not because they "believed" there is a God.  Not because they attended church.  Not because they were good people.  Not because they followed some list of rules.  Not because they prayed some "magic prayer" that gave them hell insurance.  Not because they were baptized in a river or a chlorine-cleaned baptismal tank and came back up a wet sinner.  They are in heaven today because they had a relationship with Jesus Christ.  They accepted his forgiveness for their sins when he died on the cross in their place and they followed him until he took them home.  They left behind an example and a legacy of what following Jesus looks like.  They loved Jesus and it showed.  They were kind and loving and forgiving and gentle and selfless and humble and joyful.  I love Jesus and I strive to be like him, but I fail sometimes.  My grandparents are an example of a lifetime of learning and becoming more and more like Jesus.  

I will see them again.  No maybes or wishful thinking or delusions or mindlessly following the masses or positive thinking or "if I'm good enough" or fairy tales or whatever people like to say to excuse our Christian beliefs.  I KNOW.  I am SURE.  I am GUARANTEED.  I stake my life and the lives of my family and my children on this.  THAT is how serious and sure I really am.  My grieving for my grandmother is temporary and selfish because I miss her NOW.  Because I want to be where she is.  I am world weary.  The problems of life physically cause me pain.  And one less person to help me walk through this life breaks my heart.  

I was reading a Max Lucado book and he was writing about Lazarus.  Many people have speculated as to WHY Jesus wept when Lazarus died.  The passage in the book talked about people being in a cage of fear of death.  They had seen Jesus heal people and raise others from the dead, but apparently it wasn't enough for them to believe fully yet.  He related a story of a missionary who went to a remote tribe that was suffering from disease.  All they had to do was cross a river to get to a place that had medicine to heal them.  But, they believed there were evil spirits in the river and they would rather die of the disease than to go near the water.  The missionary told them he had crossed the river to get to them.  They wouldn't get in.  He got in and splashed around and they still wouldn't get in.  Finally, he dove into the river and swam across to the other side and stood on the bank, waving to the tribe, who cheered and then followed him across.  We have a savior who dove into the river of death and swam to the other side and came out alive to show us that we didn't have to be afraid of death--he has conquered death.  Therefore, I don't fear death for me or my loved ones who follow Jesus.  

I asked grandma to give Pops and my dad a hug for me when she got there and I told her I'd meet her there.  I will see them again.  I hope you all, as my friends, will be there too because I have some amazing grandparents that I'd like to introduce you to!  But, first, I want to see my Jesus.

I Love You Too Much Not to Warn You (or to care what you think about this blog)

The question of whether a loving God would send anyone to hell is a stumbling block for many. It's a question Christians are often asked of their faith. If our God is love, why would He condemn any to a lake of fire? The conclusion of those who do not have a personal relationship with God is that either there is no God or that He is mean and vindictive.

God IS love. No, He isn't willing that any should perish (II Peter 3:9  "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance."). Why else would He send His only son to die for us? He has pulled out all the stops to prevent those He loves from going to the place created for the devil and his demons. Those that end up in hell choose to ignore His gift., His exit strategy, His sacrifice, His love. They choose to go their own way. They are there by choice. This is the downside of free will: the freedom to make the wrongchoice.

Some Christians don't believe that there is a literal hell, that all the references in the Bible are figurative.  However, if you take the literal hell out if the equation, the whole theology of Christianity collapses. If there is no hell, why is there a death? Death is decay brought on by sin. If there is no hell, what is the point of death? Why shouldn't we go on living forever, or be raised to heaven, one and all? And if there is no hell or death, there is no consequences for sin. And if there is no consequences for sin, is there sin at all? If there are no consequences, how do you tell right from wrong? If there is no consequence, couldn't we live however we want and do what we want.? If there is no sin, why did Jesus die? If there is no hell, no sin, why would he have to die? If there is no consequences, no death, then he couldn't die. This destroys the whole crux of our faith. If Christ didn't die for our sins, why are we here?  If he didn't die for our sins, we should stop right now.  We have no hope.  We should pack it in and go home.  If he didn't die for us, then the Bible is a lie and we shouldn't trust any of it.  But, the good news is that he DID die to pay the debt against us.

When I was in high school, a classmate constantly ridiculed me for my faith and teased me about worshiping Satan. Before we were even upperclassmen, he was shot and killed accidentally. It broke my heart, thinking of his rejection of Jesus' gift of salvation.  A not so close family member died around the age of 40 from hard living. Although I hadn't been close to her, the funeral left me broken and weeping. The striking aspect of the funeral was the complete lack of hope. The wailing and sobbing was poignant, a stark contrast to the funerals of those who trust in Christ. One of the worst experiences with death I have ever had, if dwelt on for too long, reduces me to panic attacks because of the heartbreak it represents. My former father-in-law thought he had plenty of time. He said he'd make things right with God eventually, but for the present time, he wanted to live the way he wanted to live. He died a couple of weeks after he told me this, at the age of 40.  I loved him very much and it still breaks my heart to think of him in hell.  But, that was his choice.  His choice was to reject the Savior.

Please don't make the same mistakes that these made.  You don't know how much time you have.  Don't wait.  Waiting is saying no.

I am reminded of a couple of songs, whose authors are much more eloquent than I:

Thorns on his head
A spear in his side
Yet it was a heartache that made him cry
He gave his life
So you'd understand
Is there any way you could say no to this man?
If Christ himself was standing here
Face full of glory and eyes full of tears
And he held out his arms
And his nail-printed hands
Is there any way you could say no to this man?
How could you look in his tear-stained eyes
Knowing it's you he's thinking of?
Could you tell him you're not ready to give him your life?
Could you say you don't think you need his love?
Jesus is here with his arms open wide
You could see him with your heart
If you'd stop looking with your eyes
He's left it up to you
He's done all he can
Is there any way you could say no to this man?

What if you're right?
And he was just another nice guy
What if you're right?
What if it's true?
They say the cross will only make a fool of you
And what if it's true?

What if he takes his place in history
With all the prophets and the kings
Who taught us love and came in peace
But then the story ends?
What then?

But what if you're wrong?
What if there's more?
What if there's hope you never dreamed of hoping for?
What if you jump
And just close your eyes?
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?
What if He's more than enough?
What if it's love?

What if you dig
Way down deeper than your simple-minded friends?
What if you dig?
What if you find
A thousand more unanswered questions down inside?
That's all you find

What if you pick apart the logic
And begin to poke the holes?
What if the crown of thorns is no more
Than folklore that must be told and retold?

But what if you're wrong?
What if there's more?
What if there's hope you never dreamed of hoping for?
What if you jump
And just close your eyes?
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?
What if He's more than enough?
What if it's love?

You've been running as fast as you can
You've been looking for a place you can land for so long
But what if you're wrong?


I am reminded of an article that I read online not that long ago.  An atheist said that if we as Christians truly believe what we say we believe, then we should be out there telling people, regardless of what they may think of us.  He said he respects someone who believes they have hope and the answer, sharing it with others.  If I had the cure for cancer, what benefit would it be if I kept it to myself?  How selfish!  What I have is infinitely more precious and necessary.  What I have written may offend you, but if I truly believe it (and I do) and if I truly love you, then I can't walk on eggshells. There's no time to be politically correct.

God's Desire

This blog is called "writing practice," but it's been mostly journalistic in nature. I've written "articles" taken from my everyday life, which is fine, but I feel I should also insert more of my creativity. I wrote two versions of a short story a few months ago and I added a little creativity to my last post, but I plan to do this more often. The other day, I dug through some of my creative writing files to find a poem for my grandpa and I found some that I want to rework.

Jesus is calling
O sinner, repent.
Your life is unclean
And in constant torment.
You do what you want,
But you're longing for more.
Your existence is empty,
Won't you open the door?
He's waiting for you
With open, loving arms.
He'll keep you safe
From the enemy's harms.
Jesus is calling...
Please, sinner, repent.

The Holy Spirit is calling,
O Christian, obey.
There's numerous ways
To serve Christ today.
He'll speak to you
Through His divine Holy Word.
Your God will instruct you
Though not a voice can be heard.
In prayer, you'll talk with him
As you come boldly to the throne.
With mercy and grace,
He'll lead you toward home.
The Holy Spirit is calling...
Please, Christian, obey.

The Father is calling,
O Christian, please go.
My love to all sinners
I want you to show.
Be a light everywhere, wherever;
Tell what God has done for you.
Spread the gospel in your sphere
Tell each Catholic, Agnostic, and Jew.
Then cross the oceans,
And win foreign lands.
As you, all over the globe,
Proclaim the kingdom is at hand.
The Father is calling...
Please, Christian, won't you go?

The Godhead is calling,
O Christian, come home.
The streets of gold stand ready,
For the redeemed to roam.
The mansions are built
By a Carpenter for you,
Silhouetted against
A sky of deepest blue.
Your work is complete,
You can lay your burden down.
Loved ones gone before
Wait to show you around.
The Godhead is calling...
My child, welcome home.

The Veil

On this Resurrection Sunday, I have been contemplating the veil of the temple. Matthew 27:50, 51 says, "And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom...."

What was the significance of the veil being rent in two pieces? And why from top to bottom? What is the veil in the first place?

The veil in the temple separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple. The Holy of Holies was the dwelling-place of God's presence on earth. Only the high priest was allowed to enter and even then, only once a year to atone for Israel's sins. The veil was symbolic of man being separated from God by his sin. According to the historian Josephus, the veil was around 60 feet high and four inches thick. Josephus goes on to say that two horses pulling in opposite directions could not tear the material that constructed the temple veil.

It's significant that the veil was torn from top to bottom, so that no one could claim that human hands had perpetrated a fraudulent miracle. We know that horses couldn't tear the four-inch-thick fabric--therefore, how could this material be rent in a natural explanation? And in case someone might conceive that it could be accomplished, surely no human could tear a 60 foot veil from the top. As this is recorded specifically in Scripture and elsewhere by historians, we must conclude that this event had witnesses.

So, if the veil was torn by God and not man, why did He do it? There are a couple of theories about this. It could have symbolized God coming down to man. Charles Spurgeon said, "In the East men express their sorrow by rending their garments; and the temple, when it beheld its Master die, seemed struck with horror, and rent its veil. Shocked at the sin of man, indignant at the murder of its Lord, in its sympathy with Him who is the true temple of God, the outward symbol tore its holy vestment from the top to the bottom."

However, the most important significance of the veil being ripped was to signal the end of the old covenant. The old system was done away with. The sacrificial system had ended as Christ once and for all paid the price for sin. There was now no need to continue with ritual or to pay the interest on our sin debt--it was now fully paid! There was now no separation between God and man. Jesus' death made it possible for us to boldly come before God. Jesus is our high priest, who made atonement for our sin, not yearly as the human high priest had done, but once for all. Hebrews has a lot to say about this. In chapter ten, we read, "And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.... Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water." Also, in chapter four, it is written, "Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess....Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

How awesome that we now have access to the throne room of God, through Christ's shed blood!

I had heard about a billboard that was up on the highway near where I live, advertising a church. It was controversial because of some of the things written on the billboard. I finally saw the sign this week and was struck by one of the beliefs of this "church." When I looked up their website, I found: "We do not, however, believe that Jesus is the only way to know God’s presence and experience God’s salvation. That same God or spirit of life and love is present in many religions around the world." For calling themselves a "Church of CHRIST," their belief about Jesus was pretty fishy: "We are not a “liberal” church that says whatever way works for you is fine, we simply recognize that Christianity is our way into the life of God but do not confuse that as being the only way into God who will not be defined by human barriers." Their list of beliefs seemed more like a political or social club, as opposed to a church. Very little of their beliefs had anything whatsoever to do with the Bible.

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that I find it a travesty when humans dictate to God what is right or wrong, what is sin or acceptable, or even how you can get into heaven. How dare we? Who on earth do we think we are? Living in bodies God created, living on a planet that God made, breathing the very air that God brought into being. And yet, we think we can tell God how to run the universe He created? Can we honestly tell HIM under what circumstances that we will be coming to HIS heaven? Do we seriously tell the Creator of everything what we think the rules should be? How arrogant! Can you imagine your child telling you what the rules will be in your house, telling you what they will do, how they will do it, demanding money, etc. from you? Or if a peon in a huge corporation went to the CEO and told him how much salary he demanded to make, the benefits he required, and as long as he was at it, he would rather the company manufacture something different because he wasn't really "feeling" the product? Can you imagine clay on a potter's wheel standing up and telling the potter how he should mold the clay? Of course not! It's ludicrous! God does not run a democracy, folks. It's a theocracy and you better figure out what Theos' requirements are and get in line! Yes, God is loving, but he is God and we are not.

John 3:16 (a short story by Robin Lynn Davidson)

Mary opened her eyes, but remained completely motionless. Something felt wrong. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but it was there in the air, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She listened intently for any sound that might give away what it might be, but there were no sounds. Maybe that was it--the lack of sound, the heavy stillness in the air. She looked around and saw only darkness. She couldn't even tell if the room she was in was familiar or not. Memory eluded her. It was that moment of grogginess after waking, when you aren't sure of anything--where you are, what time it is, or even who you are. Yet that moment seemed to stretch on indeterminately.

Mary rolled to her side and tried to blink away the feeling of unease and peer through the gloom. She determined she was laying on a mat on an earthen floor. She decided that lying there was cowardly, so she pushed herself up to a sitting position and then struggled to stand up. She tripped over an oil lamp, so she trimmed and lit it. She explored the house she found herself in and found it to be deserted, save for a mouse in the corner, who was cleaning his whiskers, making her glad she had decided to get up. She found some bread on the table and ate a little before venturing from the stone house. She found a crude pitcher near the door, so she assumed there must be a well somewhere. She started down the dusty street, looking for another woman to point her in the right direction, but there was no one about. The sky was becoming lighter and lighter so surely people would be up and about before the sun's unforgiving rays would begin to beat down upon them. Before long, she found a well in what appeared to be a town square of a rather large city. She drew out some water and started back the way that she had come.

Mary was becoming more and more alarmed at the absence of sound and human sightings in such a large metropolis. Where was everyone? She was beginning to feel as though everyone were in on a joke that she had been left out of. Could they all be around a corner, laughing at her? She had been the butt of jokes before, but surely the whole city could not be involved in such a prank! Was it a Sabbath day? No, as near as she could figure, it was a Friday. A feast day? No, she had a brief recollection of Passover being celebrated yesterday. Had the entire town gone somewhere? No, she couldn't recall any logical reason why no one should be about.

When she reached the small house, she set about with some chores to keep her mind busy and the panic at bay. She fed the chickens, gathered eggs, milked the goat, swept out the house, tidied up, and did some baking.

As the day wore on, the alarm welled up inside of her. She walked out of the house and no longer cared if she looked silly or if anyone laughed. She marched to the neighbor's house and called at the door. No answer. She walked in and saw no one. She searched every nook and cranny and still found no trace of any neighbors. She went to the next house and the next house, finding no one and still no one. The further she went, the more afraid she became until she was terrified. She ran through the empty, still streets, sobbing and calling out for anyone who might hear her. But there were no returning answers. She wandered aimlessly for a long while and eventually returned to the little cottage and sat, not knowing what else to do. She buried her face in her hands and wept softly.

"Jehovah-Shammah," Mary whispered. "Do not leave me alone in this world. Do not abandon your daughter. Please, El-Roi."

Who am I kidding? Mary thought to herself. Jehovah-Jireh has probably sent his promised Messiah in the night and left me behind. I am no one. A poor, ignorant young girl with nothing to offer his kingdom. Elohim loves his people but I am just one among many, easily forgotten.

Suddenly Mary heard a noise, like a great crowd of people shouting. She jumped in surprise, then recovered quickly and took off running towards the direction of the noise. She ran so long and so hard she thought her lungs would burst. She ran to the other side of the city, to a hill, and then she stopped. That was where the noise had been coming from, but there was no crowd. All she saw there was one man. And he could not have been making that noise.

She sank to the ground in weakness and sorrow. Mary's shoulders sunk and her head drooped. The sight of the man had drained all of the energy out of her body. He was obviously being punished for something. Even if he deserved some sort of punishment, Mary couldn't think of anything the man could have done that would have warranted the treatment he was receiving. But, just by looking at him, she could tell that the man had done nothing wrong. She could see it in his eyes. One glance and she could bear it no more--her gaze fell away from his and she covered her face with her hands. In that glance, she felt as if he had really SEEN her and knew her.

"Daughter," said a gentle, yet strong voice. "Do not look away."

Mary reluctantly looked up to the man again. This time, when she looked into his eyes, she saw a love there that she had never seen before. But, the love wasn't just spelled out in his eyes. It was also written in the blood that was spilling from his body, from the crown of thorns on his head, from the nails that were piercing his hands and feet, holding him to a cross. She gasped.

"Who is he?" she whispered, in awe.

"He is my beloved son, in whom I am well-pleased."

"Jehovah-Yahweh..." Mary's voice was barely audible. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was dry. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But...why is he...dying?"

"Because I loved the world so much that I gave my one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Have you not learned the prophet Isaiah? He is pierced for the world's transgressions, crushed for their sins, the punishment that brings them peace is upon him and by his wounds they are healed."

"But, where is the world? I mean, where is everybody? I have looked all day and I can find no one."

"Today, my child, you are the world. You mean the world to me. My son came to die for you."

Mary thought she might faint. The knowledge of that was too much to wrap her mind around. Before she had time to think, she was on her feet and running. She found herself at the foot of the cross, sobbing.

"No, no, no! I am not worth it! My life is not worth your life! How can you love me so much that you would die for me? Don't you know that I am nothing?"

"Of course I know you, child. I made you. I created your inmost being and knit you together in your mother's womb. I have watched you grow. I have a purpose for your life. And you are worth it to me. I love you enough to send my son to die for you. Not just the whole world, but you alone. You individually. If you were the only person on earth, he would still die for only you."

"Why?" Mary nearly screeched wretchedly.

"Because without his taking the punishment for your sins, we would be separated forever, my child, and that's not something that I can live with. I want you with me. For all eternity. This is my gift to you. Will you accept my gift?"

Mary's heart suddenly soared at the sound of the voice and the love she felt enveloping her completely. She felt a warmth permeating her entire body and would not have been surprised to have found herself glowing. She had never felt love like this before and was sure that she never would again. Yet, she was sure that this love that was being offered to her would carry her through her life and beyond the grave. She looked up into the face of the man dying for her alone, her face still wet with tears, but gratitude written on every inch of her expression, and whispered, "Yes!"

**************************************************

This is a work in progress. I am debating about how to write this story. Another option would be to nix the confusion that Mary starts off the day with and make her just go through her normal day, except for the weird fact that everyone is missing. She might think more about her missing family, which would, in a round about way, incorporate other characters. My other idea for this story is that the "Mary" is a modern day girl who wakes up in Israel at the time of the crucifixion with no knowledge of how she got there or why or where anyone else is. The reason that I am thinking about writing the story that way is to make it easier to relate to the character because this story is about everyone. Jesus did die for the world personally, not corporately. If you have any comment about it one way or another, please share.

It Is WELL With My Soul

That is one of my all-time favorite hymns. It's been my favorite since I was a small child. I have learned the story behind it and even wrote a paper about it in Bible College. How many hundreds of times have I heard this song? And yet, when I heard it a few weeks ago, I learned something new.

"Though Satan should buffet
Though trials should come
Let this blessed assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed his own blood for my soul."

Whatever Satan tries to plague me with, whatever I've done, Jesus looked ahead in time and saw me for who and what I am and he saw my sin and still chose me and died for me anyway. He paid for it ALL. My hanging on to guilt is doing his sacrifice a disservice. I'm placing myself in God's place as judge. I don't have to do anything to receive salvation and forgiveness, just accept and receive it.

"Though his eyes were on the crowd that day,
He looked ahead in time...
He knew me, yet he loved me...
So unworthy of such mercy,
Yet when he was on the cross,
I was on his mind."

Once we receive that forgiveness, we have to let it go. Satan tries to point to our failures and say, "See? You will never measure up!" But we have to remember that God has forgiven and truly forgotten our sin.

"It happened so long ago
And I cried out for mercy back then.
I plead the blood of Jesus
Begged him to forgive my sin.
But I still can't forget it
It just won't go away.
So I wept again, 'Lord wash my sin,'But this is all He'd say,

What sin, what sin?
Well that's as far away as the east is from the west.
What sin, what sin?
It was gone the very minute you confessed
Buried in the sea of forgetfulness.

The heaviest thing you'll carry
Is a load of guilt and shame.
You were never meant to bear them
So let them go in Jesus name.
Our God is slow to anger
Quick to forgive our sin
So let Him put them under the blood
Don't bring them up again.
Cause He'll just say,

What sin, what sin?
Well that's as far away as the east is from the west.
What sin, what sin?
It was gone the very minute you confessed
Buried in the sea of forgetfulness.

Lord, please deliver me from my accusing memory.
Nothing makes me weak this way, then when I hear you say,

What sin, what sin?
Well that's as far away as the east is from the west.
What sin, what sin?
It was gone the very minute you confessed
Buried in the sea of forgetfulness."

I had another "epiphany" while I was at church recently. Something was being said about Jesus' death. I KNOW how wonderful that is, but I found myself thinking, "well, yeah, but of course he would give up his life to save all of mankind." I mean, sheer numbers, volume! But I felt a lurch in my heart as I was nearly brought to my knees. I FELT the words, "If you had been the only one, I would have still died for you." I couldn't stop the tears that suddenly welled up. Talk about a boost of self-esteem... Or as I've heard before, "if that don't light your fire, your wood's wet!" Truly awesome!