Attitude: it makes a difference

By 7:10am, I had just finished the last few pages of Philip Yancey's "Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?" With prayer and God fresh in my mind, I was determined to let the book's loving words guide my thoughts and actions. As the kids were filtering into class- and, I might add, being unbelievably loud while doing so- I kept Jesus at the forefront of my emotions.

After everyone was settled and working on their assignments, one of the dearest girls in class asked if I would like to read her English project on the book entitled "The Adventures of Ulysses." Her project was wonderful, but my favorite part was the assignment wherein she had to write about her hero. What I read took my breath away. It went as follows:

"Therefore, he is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through him." -Hebrews 7:25

He stands knocking. Tugging and pulling at your heart's door. He stands rejected, alone in misery. He doesn't sin; he doesn't curse you. He pours out blessing after blessing, hoping that you will trust in him.

A hero is someone who sacrifices themselves for the salvation of others. My hero is Jesus Christ. Born from a virgin, he endured a perfect and absolute life here on Earth. Not once did he sin; he was blameless. Jesus despised evil, and delighted in justice. Exalting the humble, and humbling the exalted. He recruited followers, and soon his fame advanced throughout the nations. He was the Son of God, Alpha and Omega, beginning and end.

They spit upon his face. Slashed him with whips, shoved a crown of thorns onto his bleeding head. His heart was shattered. The betrayal and the denial caused outspoken pain. There he was, our mighty and strong God, blameless and pure, suffering through a criminal's death sentence. That should have been me; it should have been you.

Jesus didn't just die for our sins; he became our sins. He became jealousy and pride; he became lust and murder. God's entire wrath poured out upon the fragile body of Jesus. Dying and surrounded in spiritual darkness, Jesus reached the worst pain he had ever felt- he was alone. God had forsaken him. He was defiled, covered in sin. With his crowning breath, he whispered "Father forgive them, they know not what they do." And then he perished.

I don't praise a dead God. My God is alive. Three days later he arose. The grave couldn't hold him and the grave couldn't stop him. He now lives in spirit inside his followers, until the fateful day comes where he can call up his children and they will forever be with him.

"If we die with him, we will also live with him. If we endure hardship, we will reign with him. If we deny him, he will deny us. If we are unfaithful, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny who he is." -2 Timothy 2:11-13

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I can't say for certain that my loving attitude this morning had anything to do with sweet Miranda sharing her project with me. But I also can't say that it didn't. In any event, I am just so blessed and grateful that she provided those words of encouragement on what may have otherwise felt like the beginning of a dull Tuesday.

Thank you, Miranda...and thank you, Jesus. Amen.