Why me, I wonder.
I’m the one with the mess, the one plagued by demons, the one with the smashed up heart. Nobody ever looked at me and thought that redemption was possible. Nobody except him. I don’t understand it; maybe I never will. Maybe I never have to. Because all that’s left is gratitude, the non-stop thank you, and hope. The hope that I can be so much more than my brokenness because I mean something to someone.
Perhaps that’s what happens when love finds you.
At the heart of the story of the cross is this:
God believes in you. Even when you doubt that he exists, or when you don’t believe in yourself, God has always believed in you so much so that he thought you were worth the cross.
Today I finally went out of the house to do my yearly Lenten habit — the Walkway in Bonifacio High Street. Albeit the obviously bigger budget (bigger panels!) and the new sponsors (aka Viber,) it was still the same Walkway that makes you relate Christ’s last few moments to your own life.
This year, this is what resonated with me; Station 13 on Mary Magdalene. I’m sharing it here in case anyone feels the same way I do too. 🙂