The Holiest of Weeks

It’s Holy Week. Tomorrow is what they call Maundy Thursday, or Holy Thursday. The day Jesus celebrated the Last Supper with his closest followers.

His closest followers. To be in that circle of twelve.

To be the disciple whom Jesus loved.

That’s partly why I gave up Facebook for Lent. To get closer to Him. To be less distracted. Instead, it’s made me addicted to Twitter.

The problem isn’t Facebook. It’s me. My own self getting in the way of how I wish I could live my days. Distracting my head from what’s going on in my heart by checking email and reading blog posts whenever there’s a lull in the activity.

I read this post yesterday by Ann Voskamp.

I’m going to digress here for one paragraph. Bear with me. Since I’m pretty sure she will never read my blog, I think I can safely share my humble opinion. Ann Voskamp is brilliant. I mean, truly. She puts things into words in ways that bring me to tears with every post I read. But then I can’t wade through the rest of the post because it’s just so wordy. I hate to say that because I absolutely love her and can’t wait to sit at her feet when I go to Allume Social later this year (the conference formerly known as Relevant). Can I think someone is brilliant and appreciate what they have to say while also not fully enjoying her style? Well, that’s where I stand on Ann—at least when I read her blog. If I could come up with the ideas she has and write them in my style, well, I would be the perfect writer. But that’s just my opinion. She’s the one with a NY Times bestseller. That’s only a dream for me . . . as of now.

But the post I read yesterday, which was not on her blog, was amazing. I started reading and I had to stop, because to continue reading it would have been to ignore conviction. Camilla was sitting next to me on the couch, talking to me, and I was reading a post about giving our children the scraps from the floor. I tried to keep reading. I tried to keep picking up the scraps of my love and attention from the floor and handing them to her, but I knew I had to stop. So I closed my laptop and set it aside. I turned to her and gave her the main course, the best food from the table. I need to do this more often.

I keep giving God my scraps, too. Some days I get up in the morning and sit with my Bible and hear from Him. Other days I start writing in my journal first thing and then I might have time to read a verse or two before I need to hop in the shower. Some nights I stay up way too late writing or reading or just wasting time and I hit the snooze button in the morning. And then I hit it again. And I have no time for Him. I breathe a prayer as I ready for the day.

How can I be one of His closest followers? I’m missing out on what He has for me. If every day I got up and soaked in His presence, how much more life and peace would I have. His Word tells me this.

And yet, He doesn’t condemn me. He just longs for me. He longed for me enough to go to the cross. I am the disciple whom Jesus loved. And still loves. Even on days when all I have time to do is whisper a hurried prayer.