You’ve blessed my life in just ridiculous ways. My health, my husband, my child, my family, my job. I could go on and on about the absolute bliss that I experience every day of my life. I know it all comes from You … Lord, my life is so perfect. If nothing ever changed, I’d really be fine. Happy, even. Except for one thing. I really want to want You again … Thank you for the ridiculous favor You’ve poured out on my life. Teach me to give You the praise and glory for it, instead of just expecting and accepting it. I love You, Jesus. And I want to love You so much more.
For a moment, Jesus felt His mighty heart would explode with joy. She loves my gifts. She loves Me. She wants to love Me more. He basked in her worship and gratefulness. He knew He must soak up every moment of her praise. The clock was ticking. In a matter of days, the way her innocent heart saw Him would never be the same.
* * * * *
It was Maundy Thursday of 2007. The devil licked his lips anxiously as he stood at the King’s side. Their eyes were locked on his next target. Satan could barely contain his glee. The Father stood with his arms crossed, unmoving and grim.
“I can’t believe it,” Satan marveled as he turned toward the King. “You’re finally going to let me have my way with her after all this time.”
The King cringed, but didn’t answer.
“Oh, how she will fall,” he taunted her loving Father. “She will hate You.”
The Father never took His eyes off her. “She doesn’t know how to hate.”
The devil threw his head back and laughed. “Well, this will teach her,” he snarled, returning his venomous glare at his prey. He glanced back at the Father. “You should have let me get to her earlier, You know. All this time You’ve been protecting her. Her faith has never been tried. Her strength has never been tested. She will crumble.”
“No,” stated the Father resolutely. “She loves Me.”
The devil grinned incredulously. “Of course she does! Her life is perfect! How could she not love You!” He looked back at her. “That’s all about to change.”
“You’ll see,” replied the King.
He shook his head at the Father’s ridiculous optimism. The timing was delicious. All of the King’s children were even then preparing to celebrate the Resurrection. The anniversary of Satan’s greatest defeat. And she loved Easter. Walked through every day of Holy Week with intention and reverence. Feeling the darkness and weight of Jesus’ death on Friday. Then moved to tears of joy every Sunday at the beauty and victory of her living Savior.
Satan sneered, knowing this weekend would now be ruined forever for her. Every year from now on, she would grieve this excruciating loss, the day her world ended. There would be no more joy, no more victory. The very event that settled the Son’s love for her for all time and secured her eternal salvation would be lost in a sea of personal pain. It was tragically poetic.
He closed his eyes, savoring the thought of the chain of events about to be set into motion, the collateral damage that would go on and on and on.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and turned to face his great Enemy. “Wait a minute,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “Why now?”
The Father didn’t answer, eyes still on her.
“For twenty-seven years You’ve barely let me touch her. Now all of a sudden, You’re letting me have complete access. You know what I’m going to do. I’ve been setting the stage for months. The fire is built. Just waiting on the match.”
The King cringed again, knowing full well what was coming.
“Why now?” the devil demanded.
“I have my reasons,” stated the Father softly.
Satan’s eyes flashed in anger. “You will lose this one, O Great King of Heaven,” he mocked. “You underestimate me, just like You always have.”
The Father finally faced his former servant. He was once the fairest of them all, the most beautiful angel He had ever created. His beloved Lucifer, gone forever. He was but a shadow of his former self. Still fierce with strength, but dark, hard, evil to the core.
“You will not win this one,” the King informed him. “You may have been watching her and plotting her destruction for twenty-seven years. But I saw her before the creation of the world. She has always been Mine. And she will always be Mine.” He gazed back at his beloved daughter for one last unscathed look. “Now go.”
The fallen angel grinned wickedly. “With pleasure,” he retorted. And he was gone.
Jesus was standing nearby and heard the whole exchange. “Abba,” He whispered, taking the devil’s place at His Father’s side. Her words still rang in His heart. Thank You for the favor You’ve poured out on my life … I love You. And I want to love You more.
The King heard them as well. He reached over and touched His Son’s shoulder comfortingly. “She will, My Son,” He assured Him. “She will.”
They turned their attention back to the young woman pulling into the driveway of her home. The Holy Spirit lingered in and around her, but He knew the plan as well. He could hold her up, but was not to intervene. Not this time.
She walked up the stairs and raised the key to unlock the door and let herself in.
The King’s heart broke and He whispered fervently, “Hang on, baby girl. I will never leave nor forsake you. I am right here, a breath away. I have not abandoned you. You are not alone. Just hang onto Me. You’re still Mine. Just hang onto Me.”
A few moments later, darkness descended on the little house in southwest Ocala. And life would never be the same.
* * * * *
It was me they were talking about that afternoon. I didn’t see it or hear it, of course. But I imagine it went something like that.
Jesus’ first words in the book of John are, “What do you want?” Earlier that week I had written a letter to my Savior, answering that question for a Bible study assignment. And really, I wanted for nothing. I managed to dig up a handful of trivial things and now moot points, but I knew full well that my life was dang near perfect and said so in the letter. The only thing I could possibly want was more Jesus. I loved Him as much as I could with my unscarred heart and untested faith. But I knew there was more, and I wanted it. I could not have imagined the path that would get me there.
That was eight years ago today. And every Easter weekend since has been tainted by the painful anniversary of that night. Some years have been harder than others. Last Easter, I was more angry than sad. I was furious that Satan could use those wretched, soul-crushing memories to distract me from fully experiencing the joy of the Resurrection. How DARE he choose that weekend? It was sacred. (I think I just answered my own question.)
And here we are again. Easter is here.
But something is different this year. I heard an old song in the car the other day that brought me to unexpected tears. I’ve heard it and sung it a million times, but for some reason, this time the words went straight to my heart. All of a sudden, they became my words, each one heavy with meaning, in a love song to my King.
Bring me joy, bring me peace, bring the chance to be free.
Bring me anything that brings You glory.
And I know there’ll be days when this life brings me pain,
But if that’s what it takes to praise You,
Jesus, bring the rain.
Suddenly, I was looking back at that day with His eyes. And I saw it. Redeemed.
In an instant, what used to be the anniversary of my wrecked life became my anniversary with Jesus. That was the day that the work began. My Lord mercifully crushed my idols and used Satan’s fire of hell as fire of refinement on my young, naïve heart. That was the day my King tore down my little play palace to make room for His Kingdom.
Starting that day, I would learn how to fight, I would learn how to hope, I would learn, learn, learn. Learn through failure, tears, hopelessness, sin, rejection. I would fall and fall hard a hundred times. I would hide. I would wallow in defeat. But He would never leave me alone, even when I thought I wanted Him to. Like a relentless trainer, He pulled me to my feet again and again, each time a little stronger, each time a little closer to Himself.
And do you know what else? (Here come the tears.) I love Him more. Deeper, stronger, the kind of love that you have for someone who has walked through hell with you. Because that’s what happened. He never left my side. That clueless prayer I sent up to heaven eight years ago has been answered, a million times over. I love Him more. Praise You, Lord.
So bring on Easter. Let me walk through the darkness of Friday and explode in the joy of Sunday. My God brings the dead back to life. He has redeemed my Easter. He not only walked through hell with me; He walked through hell FOR me. It’s no longer about my sadness. The spotlight is back on my Savior where it belongs. He is risen, indeed.
Happy Anniversary, Jesus. I love You more.
