I was poked a few days ago by a friend. 

It’s been a while since I sat over a keyboard and she was questioning, challenging and encouraging me, all at the same time.  That's what the people who know us and love us anyway do.  They poke.  Writing, at least writing something I’m going to post here, requires a lot of effort; a lot of blood, sweat and yes, sometimes tears. 

I’ve pondered off and on the whys of writing, particularly blogging.  Why do I do it?  What is my motivation?  I gotta be honest, when I first started this rather sporadic effort at blogging, it was largely cathartic.  I couldn't afford counselling and so this was how I unloaded.  There can be a freedom in writing.....when I'm honest and perhaps that's where I hit a wall.  Being honest is not easy, whether I'm writing or not.  At some point I found a safe place where I could unload; a place where I was in relationship with warm bodies that prayed for and encouraged  me and so....writing hasn't played much of a part in my life in quite a while.  After all, it is only as cathartic as I allow it to be. 

So I've been asking myself questions again.  I'm drawn to people who take their masks off and are honest.  I'm drawn to people who are real and am priviledged to have them share with me of their experiences.  I want to hear their stories, their struggles, their victories.  It's what makes them.....human and relatable and, so it makes sense to me that this is what I want to be.  That seldom easy; hence the aforementioned blood, sweat and tears.  However, I can attest to the fact that there is little of value in this life that comes easyily. 

And on this Good Friday that has given me pause to remember. 

Jesus.

He came to earth as a baby.  He was a young boy, similar to the boys I have running around here and yet....different.  He was God and he was man.  I'm reminded of his humanity in a simple prayer he prayed:

“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me…..

Ever prayed it?  Please, oh please oh please....not this God....anything but this!  We're invited into his struggle and the turmoil he must have felt knowing what was about to happen.

....nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”   

He was the sacrificial lamb - the scape goat, for me and for you.  

Born to die so that I may live.