As I and my team have been coming out of the Easter weekend this past week, a certain somberness to His sufferings, a certain realization of the cost has hit us all rather heavily. This week we have been ministering on Rusinga Island and, to be perfectly honest, it was a pretty bad week for us all. Between sickness, stress, and just plain exhaustion, I in particular was spending every 5 minutes wanting to sit down by myself and just cry; have my own little private pity party. Good Friday just happened to be the worst day of the entire week.

     I was tired and during my quiet time as I set and watched the donkeys graze in the field and a group of girls attempt to ride a bike twice their size, I went through the whole list of grievances I had with God. All of them. Him bringing back to my mind the story of when Shasta had his particular pity party didn't help. I was in a contrary mood. I wanted my pity party, I wanted Him to tell me that my attitude was perfectly fine and that if anyone deserved better than what I was getting it was me. I wanted Him to feel as sorry for me as I did for myself. It got to a point where I went beyond the terribleness of the week to my disappointment in what I called the trip, but it really was just disappointment in myself. I was honestly on a roll. I set there and just simply cried and wallowed in my own disappointments, my extremely minor sufferings, my own self-pity and attempted to put them all on Him.  I was being quite terrible and was like a small child having a temper tantrum. I look back now and can't get over His constant patience, goodness to me. My heart was needing, longing for a fresh revelation of who He is, but my mind was battling it. I was a bundle of contradiction. One minute asking why He wasn't saying anything and the next minute turning my head and reminiscing on what terrible luck I have been having lately. Of course an hour later, I was distracting by whatever agenda we had going on for that day and just decided to be in a funk the rest of the day and just freely feel disappointed in myself for being disappointed in myself and being disappointed in myself because I was feeling disappointed in Him....if that makes any sense. That night, however, I was ready to sit and listen.

     We turned the Passion of the Christ on and as I set and watched I let my heart enter in and I set and I wept. I let my ears hear what He had to say to me that I night, and as I watched and listened to the evidence of His love for me my petty complaints and worries just fell by the wayside as I began to grasp a little more of the love He bore me. Long after the movie was finished, I just sat with Him and listened to what He had to say, repented of the small foxes that I willingly let in to ruin our vineyard. He is so good.  He is worth so much more than what I can ever give. In our lives it is so easy to get caught up in our own injustices and wounds and forget, perhaps try to forget, that He has walked it all and so much more, and the love He has for us was the passion behind it all. Everything pales when brought into the light of His glory. I pray that I will never forget the cost of the sacrifice He bore for me, the love He has for me. That my capacity to grasp and retain will only continue to increase so that I may come a little closer in giving and pouring out on Him that which He deserves. Our highest praise.