When Heaven Threaded Hope
Well, land sakes alive, Butterbean, scoot yourself right on up here and be watchin’ that there loose porch plank ‘a-fore it sends you ‘a-flyin’ into the geraniums. We’re ‘bout to be ‘a-stitchin’ together a truth thicker than grandma’s warm winter quilt and twice as determined. Have you ever done watched a seasoned quilter at work, ’a leanin’ in close with her needle ‘a-flashin’ like a firefly that done drank too much sweet tea? Every scrap looks like it came from an ol’ rooster that lost a fight with a pair of pinkin’ shears, but somehow that there quiltin’ lady turns all that chaos into somethin’ warm enough to chase off an icy, cold January wind. And that’s ‘zactly how Galatians 4:4 -5 feels, where it says, “But when the set time had fully come, God sent His Son… that we might receive adoption to sonship.” The Lord took the scraps of our ol’ broken world and stitched in a great Savior sho’-nuff right on time.
Now, Butterbean, let me be ‘a-tellin’ you somethin’. I once walked that dusty path right straight from the Mount of Olives on down into Jerusalem, the very same path Jesus rode on with that there lil’ ol’ donkey thru the city on Palm Sunday. Our group was ‘a-moseyin’ along like church folks ‘a-huntin’ for the dessert table when some local folks came toward us with smiles big enough to outshine a lil’ possum ‘a-lookin’ down from way up in a peach tree. They was ‘a-sayin’, “Thank you for coming. Thank you for coming.” And mercy me, them there words done settled deeper in my heart than a lil’ ol’ rabbit ‘a-snugglin’ into a warm burrow.
As I chewed on that there moment, it hit me real hard. That’s ‘zactly what our hearts ought ta’ be ‘a-sayin’ to Jesus. “Thank You for comin’, Lord.” ‘Cause if’n He hadn’t come, if’n He hadn’t gone to the cross, if’n His blood hadn’t covered our sins, we’d still be ‘a-wanderin’ ‘round more lost than a lil’ ol’ goat that done got loose in a hardware store.
But He really came.
He done went an’ left Glory. He put on that there real human skin. He walked them there dusty roads. He knowed real hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and rejection. He was done betrayed, beaten, mocked, and crucified. For you. For me. Second Corinthians 8:9 says that though He was rich, He became poor so that through His poverty we might become rich. He didn’t have to come to be with us. He jes’ chose to come. Love nudged Him. Grace carried Him. Your redemption an’ mine was what done pulled Him close.
Without that there cross, we’re jes’ hopeless. But ‘cause of the cross, we’re done forgiven, adopted, and held tighter than a lil’ ol’ baby chick ‘a-hidin’ right under a mama hen’s wing.
Lord, I be ‘a-thankin’ You for comin’. Thank You for ‘a-steppin’ right on into our world, our mess, and our need. Be ‘a-teachin’ us to live real grateful and aware of Your love for all o’ us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Now, you got ta’ be ‘a-thinkin’’ ‘bout this here, friend, as you go ‘a-toddlin’ off like a lil’ ol’ raccoon ‘a-tryin’ to remember where it done hid its midnight snack; you got ta’ take this notion with you that gratitude done steadies the soul better’n a porch rail built by somebody who actually knowed what they was ‘a-doin’. Jesus came on purpose, for a purpose, and that purpose was you an’ me. Be ‘a-letin’ your heart be ‘a-whisperin’ it real often. I sho-‘nuff’ done thank You for comin’, Jesus. I thank You, thank you, thank you for comin’.
With joy,
Gwen
