Susan Lafferty“The way of the cross leads home….”
In worship settings of my childhood, the hymn marched. Triumphant. Its lyrics sung with gusto.
In later years, the words hit differently. Move me into quiet consideration. Thoughtful meditation.
On how this is lived out. Day by day.
How can it be?
Rabbi. Healer. Friend.
Hanging in this place of death.
On a Roman cross.
Master, who loved in truth,
speaking life and light
to all who had
ears to hear.
How could it lead to this?
The young man apologizes as we get up to let him through to his window seat. We have a long flight ahead. Fourteen hours or so.
Beforehand, I’ve asked for a heart attentive to His prompting. And for willing availability, boldness to share the gospel.
It’s not my first thought on airplanes lately, to be honest. I’d rather chill in my own little world. Enjoy the extended “pause” from daily tasks.
But as he’s seated, I pray for wisdom. To listen and obey.
