Holy Weak

Today is Tuesday of Holy Week. Lenten fasting and reflection winds down this week. The focus on the cross climaxes this Friday with the anniversary of the crucifixion. Then Sunday marks the RESURRECTION. These comprise the Highest Holy Days for Christianity.

Yet I feel weaker, less spiritual and further from Calvary than I did Ash Wednesday.

I lay awake at 4 am this morning struggling in prayer. The words got no higher than the ceiling, it seemed. I tossed and turned and wrestled with myself, with doubt, with frustration. My spirit groaned. My flesh cried out for the living God. Around 5:20, Sister woke and I brought her to bed with me.

The journey of faith is mysterious. Intimacy with the Almighty is sometimes followed with silence -- deafening silence. Highs sweep to lows. Clarity muddies into uncertainty.

Yet, Christ calls me to pick up my cross and follow him. Even if I am weak, he calls me His. His strength is pefected in my weakness. The power obviously is His not mine. He is my all in all, even when I'm not all that...