A Walk With Christ

This is a few days late, but I have finally found the time to share Easter experiences with you! 
As a kid, Easter Day is filled with candy, family, good food, bunnies, and maybe a stuffed chick or two. I don't think we truly understand the importance of such a day when we are little. As adults, our Easter Sunday is still filled with candy, family, and delicious foods (and a stuffed chick if you're my husband!). But the difference is in the feeling of the day. We focus more on the meaning of the day than the actions happening around us.



It was my first Easter as a married woman and it was incredibly fun! We may be adults, but we still hid Easter baskets for each other, spent time with each of our families (it's wonderful when you're immediate family and your in-laws live 5 minutes away from each other!), and reveled in the glorious sunshine and warm weather. Jeff and I talked about Christ and pondered about His life, death, and resurrection.Why? Well, I had the opportunity, per se, to take a walk with Christ through the last few moments of His life this week. It was eye-opening and heart wrenching. I have always felt that closeness with Him through tough times in my life, but it's different when you can sit, ponder, and feel that closeness when everything is going well.

For 8 days I opened an envelope and each "letter" had a scripture, thought, and a story. It made me think about the last few moments of His life and how He would have been feeling. How His mother felt watching her son suffer, how His friends had to stay back but support Him, and how those who did not believe before came to realize who was in their presence.
My favorite story was called "The Card Files". It's long, but I'm going to include it anyway. Maybe you'll see why it is my favorite (and why it made my cry so much that my husband was concerned!).
These made all the difference for my Easter Sunday this year. He is Risen! He is all-encompassing, all-loving. How incredible is that?

The Card Files

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in a room. There were no features except for the one wall covered by small index card files. These files stretched from floor to ceiling and went endlessly in both directions. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read, "Boys I Have Liked". I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realized that I recognized the names on each one. I then realized where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalogue system of my life. Here it was written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in every detail.

A sense of wonder and curiosity mixed with horror stirred within me as I began opening files and looking at their contents. Some brought joy and sweet memories, others brought a sense of shame and regret so intense that I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named, "Friends" was next to the one marked, "Friends I Have Betrayed". The titles ranged from the mundane, to the weird. "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At", "People I Have Hurt", and many more. Some were almost funny in their exactness--"Things I Have Done In Anger" or "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". Often, there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes, fewer than I had hoped. I was overwhelmed by the volume of life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my young life to write each of these thousands of millions of cards? 

Each card confirmed this truth because each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out a file marked, "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain the contents. The cards were packed tightly, yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not at so much of the quality of music, but more by the amount of time I knew it represented. When I came to a file titled, "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out, inch by inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at the details. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

 A rage broke through me. "No one must see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them." In a frenzy, I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. I took it out and pounded it on the floor. Not a single card would come out. I desperately pulled out a card and tried to rip it, but it was as strong as steel. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a sigh, then I saw it, a box labeled, "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handles were brighter than those around it, newer and sadly, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to cry. Sobbing so deep it hurt my stomach. I fell on my knees and cried out in shame. The rows of shelves whirled around me. No one must ever know of this room! I must lock it up and hide the key. But as I pushed away the tears from my face, I saw Him.

No, please not here! Oh, anyone but Jesus! I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. In the moments that I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every single one? Finally, He turned and looked at me with pity in His eyes. But it wasn't the pity that angered me. I dropped my head and began to cry again. He didn't say a word, He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a card and one by one He began to sign His name over mine. "NO!", I shouted, rushing at Him. All I could find to say was, "No! No!", as I pulled the card from Him. His name should not be on those cards! But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.

The name JESUS covered mine. He gently took the cards from my hand. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign all of the cards. I do not think I will ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next moment I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished". I stood up and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on the door. There are still cards to be written.