Once upon a time there was a girl.  She was an intense person.  Self-analytical.  Self-scrutinizing.  Very passionate.  For better, and like all attributes, sometimes for worse.  This girl was raised in a joy-filled home, with parents who poured out- energy, money, time, self to she and her siblings.  These parents treasured God above all.  More than any possession or thing, or person.  They loved Jesus large and loud.  And every conversation pointed in and out and all around, to Christ.

“Is that the right thought to have right now?”

“Is that obedience to what God would have you do?”

“Is that how a Christian should live?”

Everything was brought under submission to God.  Everything.  So constant was the dialogue that this girl grew to love God for herself.  As a teenager, something solidified in the heart.  “This living for God.  I must do it.  He is so amazingly perfect.  If I need to follow Something for the rest of my life, it must be this Man.  This God.”

And she gave her heart to him.

There was a cross involved.  As her parents had directed her, find yourself under the cross.  The blood and the love and the saving from sin and self that will destroy your life.  That can be resolved at the cross.

And she handed her life over.

But in the passion and naievete of her young self, she thought the road would be so…easy and self-evident.  Following God.  Surely my heart will lead me.   But her heart didn’t.  Her heart was the problem always.  No matter which direction she turned, there was her heart, leading her away from the cross and relationship with God.  Not toward the perfect blood and the perfect Savior.

And in moments of self, she hurt.  Others, which is the worst part of it.  While simultaneously teaching her little ones to love and be kind and think of others first, she placed herself first.

And she encouraged her daughter to sing.  Sing to God, Anna.  Sing with all that you are.  Grace Flows Down.  And then the pieces came together while she sang and they worshipped God together.  Because while grace reached her daughter’s ears, it reached the ears of her mother too.

Sometimes this girl does not place herself under the cross.  She prefers to stand on a hill watching Jesus die.  But from a safe distance so that she is not affected.  And so that she is not convicted.  Conviction that she is full of sin and selfish thoughts and unkindness.  That is unpalatable. She really wants to think she is better.  It is so much easier to be better.  She can fall asleep at night so easily when she thinks that she is better.

But for a moment, and for a shadow she is worse.  And while it hurts to see and it hurts to cause hurt, she needs to see it.  The levels and degrees of sin.  Because the cross is there for a reason.  It wasn’t just some vague concept we celebrate at Easter.  Jesus really did come to weed out us from us.  We cannot really worship or glorify as long as we are in the way.

So, sing Anna.  Sing to God, and sing so that your Mama will listen too.  We will learn together what this life of following God means.  And while you learn, I’ll learn too.

But always, always stay as close as you can to the Cross.  Trust me on that one.