Jesus Wept for the Dream that had to Die

As life gets busy, simple activities like checking my personal emails slip by the wayside. This morning, I took a few moments to delete the junk mail and skim the more important notes. I came across an email from our Sunday School...you know, I don't even know what his title is. He is not our teacher. Our president?

Anyway, as Michael described the Palm Sunday lesson, he reminded us of how Jesus wept as  He entered Jerusalem.  "He also spoke about Jesus's tearful coming to terms with the reality of his beloved Jerusalem. Dr. Parrott explained, Jesus 'wept for the dream that had to die.'  Jesus knew the kingdom they had imagined would not come that week. Jesus knew people would miss the point of his time in their presence."

I was struck by that quote last Sunday. I thought about all the things causing my spirit to hurt. I, too, felt like a dream was dying. At the time I wondered if it was my dream of becoming a writer that was dying.

Today, I stopped on those words and read them over and over again. "For the dream that had to die."

Easter Sunday is my favorite day of the year. It is my Christmas! It's my New Years Day! Everything is brand new. I remember the greatest gift. It's as if I get a second chance for the billionth time! I am renewed, restored, made whole!

I did hit one bump in the triumphant day. I thought about Brad and what he was doing. I thought about where I thought he should have been. I had wanted him to go to church with me. Instead, his life, and mine, took a turn down a path I did not expect...even though I maybe should have...

Anyway, for the past few days, I had been in mourning for a life I once had and once loved. It may not have been real, but I believed in it at the time. There is nothing to go back to now. The carriage house I loved has been torn down. Cancer has complicated my simple life. Divorce has temporarily taken away my carefree and confident bordering on cocky attitude. I know in my heart of hearts that I did and continue to make the right decisions for me, but that doesn't lesson the pain or make it any easier.

I was doing a good job focusing on the good of the day until the choir sang Old Rugged Cross. That song always reminds me of Brad. It is one of his favorites, at least, that's the song I remember him talking about and it's the song he would sing out loud with gusto.

As the choir sang, I closed my eyes and said a prayer for Brad...and for me...and for us...not that we would miraculously get back together, but that we would both find our way in Christ...that we would both find joy in Christ...that we could both live greater...

I wept for the dream that had to die.