(Side note: Sorry it has been so long since my last post. Life just got a way from me for awhile. I'm back though and better than ever. Anyways, back to the blogging.)
I have been blessed to have the opportunity this coming week to be a part of an Easter musical at my school. Sure I just play a Roman solider, and have no lines other than screaming as my ear gets cut off, but as someone who appreciates musical theater I love the opportunity to be a part of something like this. The play is very evangelistic, and the prayer of the whole cast since day one has been for our performance to bring people to Christ.
What I don't think any of the cast was expecting was for the play to effect us the way it already has. Our last practice was only "blocking", in other words walking through each scene a "block" at a time to establish the acting and singing parts, timings, exits, and entries. Never the less, as the play wore on and we got into the climax of the play: singers got choked up, and tears appeared in some eyes. The Gospel being played out in front of us reminded us, reminded ME of something:
How amazing it all is.
I'm going to speak for myself: I am a pretty self aware person. I am hyper aware of just how flawed a human being I am. I'm argumentative, prideful, curmudgeonly, and a know-it-all (cut to all my friends shaking their heads knowingly). I've made my fair share of mistakes and Lord knows the boneheaded ways I've failed him. Chief among sinners am I. I might as well have been the ACTUAL Roman soldier that nailed Christ to the cross, instead of simply portraying him in a play, because my sin is what put him there.
What makes all of this really crazy? God loved me anyways. Christ went to the cross anyways. As one of our songs says: His verdict for me is "not guilty". I can't understand it. I can't comprehend it. I can't wrap my head around it. That the God of the universe looked across time at me, warts and all, and sent His son to die in my place. It's an overwhelming thought.
Now this isn't new to me, I've been saved since I was a sophomore in high school. I've known all this for a long time. I don't know how I ever got to the point that I was "over it", that I wasn't overwhelmed by it anymore. All I know is that I don't want to get over it: I want it to be my thought everyday. I want it to be the first thought across my mind when I wake up and the last think that I think of when I go to bed. I want it to flood my heart to the point that I practically have to shout it off my rooftop every day just to get it off my chest. That I can't go a week without telling someone else about the God that changed my life. That when our music director pointed to the cross at the end of rehearsal and told us "THIS is who we are.", that I would take it to heart and find all my identity in Calvary.
Maybe this is just a long rant. Maybe it's not the highest quality writing. I don't care. I can barely think straight when the cross is so forefront in my mind. It's crazy and I love it. Because I can't stop thinking about how lucky, how blessed I am that Jesus loved me and that He loves me still.
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