Palm branches sit on our table all week, humble offerings laid down for the King who rode on a donkey. Smiling children waved them as they walked up the center aisle in church on Sunday. Just a few days later, the palms are withering and pathetic. I reach to throw them away, but decide to leave them there.
Those brittle palms remind me that I am unquestionably, scarily broken, too. My heart and my flesh are dead in sin.
We are all in the same condition. But.
Today our broken world meets it's Savior.
The God Man who walked and breathed and lived. Perfectly. Tomorrow He hangs on the tree and endures the punishment for sin, in my place. In our place.
In His death, Jesus breathes life into us. Because of Love.
It's all too much to take in. This Sacrifice, this Love overwhelms me. With tears stinging my eyes, I offer up the only things I can lay down because of Him.
A repentant heart. A whisper of thanks. A song of praise.
A message of Hope to the broken.
By His wounds, we are healed.
*Lent calendar from Naptime Diaries