I thought I would post a few pics from our Easter service- courtesy of Kara Graves. That Sunday we asked families to bring a flower to worship with them. Near the end of the service we asked them to come to the front and place their flowers on two crosses we had put at the front of the auditorium. It was such an amazing experience to see these symbols of death become symbols of new life. The transformation was beautiful.
This morning, we went to the doctor to get our 19 week ultrasound. This also is the visit that we find out if the baby is a boy or girl. So, we get up first thing in the morning and make our way to the doctors office. We walk right in and begin the procedure. I can't tell you how incredible it is to see your baby for the first time. Ten fingers- check. Ten toes- check. Heart beating correctly- check. Everything was in working order and developing perfectly. We have a healthy, beautiful baby girl. It was all REAL.
I stopped in my tracks just three days earlier, when we were unloading the last of our personal boxes and things from the storage unit in Nashville. Sean and the guys brought it up to us while in town for a concert at RCC. Sean had brought up a few extra items that, when I first saw them, didn't register as real to me. He pulled out a clean, white baby bed, complete with hardware, a Pack-n-Play, and a new stroller. Now, I had seen our child's ultrasound at the 8 week mark, and it began to register that I was to become a father soon, but there was still somewhat of a distance at that point. But now, in this two-hit combo, it all became really REAL.
I can't describe the paradigm shift I'm going through- I am seeing the world through a slightly different lens today. It is a lens countless men have put on throughout history and have never looked at the world quite the same way. It's like turning the corner of a long curve and, suddenly, the road opens up to this beautiful view. Your eyes follow the road down for many miles before the end vanishes from view. It's as if God, for a brief moment, pulls back the curtain to show a glimpse of the road ahead and what's to come. It's that moment, a watershed moment if you will, in which I realize I am now . . . a daddy.
Historically, this week is the final week of Jesus' life. We start with "Palm Sunday" and walk with him up to the bloody cross on Friday. Here is my reflection on this time of year:
When I see the palm branches this Sunday, I begin to think about what it would’ve been like to be there. An observer- a participant in that scene. I close my eyes and put myself on that street- seeing Jesus coming in on a colt. Where would I have stood? In the crowd, pushing my way to the front? Maybe I would have stood back a little- or run up on a hill to get a better view of the whole scene. Would I have broken off a palm branch from a tree and come sprinting back to place it on the road? Would I have taken off my coat to lay it down? Would I have shouted out “Hosanna!” It seems the only thing I really could do- It is the cry of a people to honor a true King!
But to be there at that scene - I’d have to be at a second one. Now, it is very tense here. People are angry- spiteful. I look around this crowd and notice the same people who were crying out “Hosanna!”, now yelling “Crucify Him!” We had welcomed him a week earlier with palm branches, now we welcome him with flogging and spit. You’d think we’d have chosen Jesus over Barabbas to be released. Certainly, I would have chosen Jesus, right? How could we be sentencing to death the Messiah they'd been praying and waiting for all this time- the Lamb of God . . . . our King?
For me to be in the first crowd, I HAVE to be in the second one. It was every bit my fault Jesus was on that cross as them. Pilate may have given the order, but the hammer was in my hand. They wanted a king- they needed a king. But somehow He didn't meet their expectations- they just couldn’t see Him.
Maybe I’m still there.
Maybe I’m still one of the crowd.
Maybe I'm still waiting for another King.
