Sunday Thoughts | Aug 11th

SummerColors | Blue

She put her water jar down. Suddenly everything was different. She had gone out to the well in the middle of the day with her head held low. She didn’t want to see the looks the villagers gave her. Alone, carrying her life, her shame and everything that hadn’t turned out how she had dreamt it should. But now, now she had met him. He that saw right through it all and with kind words told her the truth. His words had set her free. They showed her a love so different from what she had ever experienced before.

He had asked for a drink from her water jar, even though he was a man and she was a woman, even though he was a jew and she a samaritan. It was not how things should be. She had tried to look the other way as she approached the well, but now she found herself deep in talk with him.

His word touched her. Who was he?

She put her water jar down and went back into the village. For once she dared to look the others in their eyes, she had so much to tell them. She had to tell them about him that change her life only moments before. No one had talked like him. For the first time in ages she felt loved for whom she really was, with all her wounds and scars. She shouted it out as soon as she came into the gate. They looked at her and saw how changed she was. Together they went out to the well.

Her words had moved them. Could he be the Messiah?

She put her water jar down and the whole village got to meet him. He said he could give living water. That he could quench their thirst. They asked him to stay for a while, they wanted to talk with him and listen to him. His words changed them too.

They looked at the woman with loving eyes now. Understanding that they did wrong in judging her, seeing that they too had things to answer for in their own lives.

She walked with the other women to the well in the mornings now. His words about the living water had set them free. They believed he was sent from God. His name was Jesus.

Water
………………………………….  read more in John chapter 4 ………………………………..

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easterday_blog

Joy | Easter Day

I’ve thought a lot about the feelings the biblical Easter stories holds this week. There is the simple, easy joy that is contagious, but isn’t deep as we meet it in the crowd on Palm Sunday. The wonder and worry as we read through the happenings on Maundy Thursday and the sorrow of Good Friday.

I’ve been thinking about Jesu’s friends and his followers, the closest few especially. How did they feel? How much did they understand of things as they happened? What would I have felt if I lived through the days together with them? (The easy answer to the last question: all the feelings possible, from good to bad – and back again! But, wow, what a week!)

open grave

Easter Day is a very special day. It’s the day that we celebrate the impossible. That Christ is risen. That hope is restored. Only, this day is not filled with the carefree joy from Palm Sunday. This is a joy that had a high price, a joy that is deep and founded in Gods love for us. For all of us. First told by the women visiting the grave, not expecting anything else but to do what tradition and love asked. Instead they met an empty tomb and an angel giving them the best message any human have ever been told to deliver: He is not here, he is risen from the death! No wonder they hurried back to the others, no wonder their voices filled with hope and joy as they told and retold.

Every day I felt a little bit of that joy. Today I remind my self to savor it, to recognize it, to appreciate it and to share it with others. Happy Easter, indeed!!

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Loving having some daffodils by the door.

Being there | Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday
I’m not sure if you have been there today, in your mind, together with the people gathered by the gate. I’m not sure if you have laid down your clothes or taken branches of the nearby threes for the king as he approached. I’m not sure if you took part in the shouting and rejoicing: Hosanna! I’m not sure if you followed him into town where he sat down by the temple entrance to teach and heal.

I’m not even sure if you like the idea of pretending being there. Pretending to hear, to smell, to participate and see. But I will highly recommend it. It’s a great way to make the story come to life. It’s the only way to be there yourself, even thought it’s been years and years since the event happened.

I like to do it. I like to pretend. To hear, smell, participate and see as good as my imagination can make it happen. Some stories is easier than others. Some times in my life makes it easier as well, and some make it harder.

When I think about this story I try to hear the carefree joy in the peoples voices. Hosanna! The king is here, we have no worries in the world. I think about how easy it is to get carried away with this joyful song and shouting. How it is contagious and how it spreads through the gathered people.

The children takes part in the joyous occasion too (off course). Later in the day they can be heard by the temple shouting out their Hosanna! Laughing and having fun as they relive the moment by the gate, again and again.

I want to join them in their silly singing. I think that this is just the kind of silliness that gets God himself to smile with us.

So swing your palm, sing Hosanna from the top of your lungs and meet the king of kings with joy. I’ll be right there next too you joining in as well.

Daily Instagram | Tulip

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