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Jesus, risen

As a new teacher, I kept on feeling like any of my student’s mistakes was a direct result of my inadequacy. Everything felt so uncertain. Who was I going to be as a teacher? Who were these students going to be under my instruction? Will I ruin them?
In the midst of uncertainty, I longed for hope.
In hindsight, hope is a funny answer to uncertainty. Hope does not promise answers. Hope does not promise safety. Hope does not even promise our tomorrow.

Jesus, down from my cross

The moment that my grandpa’s death struck reality for me was when my sister started to cry right before burying him. Her tears reminded me of him, one of the brightest lights in my world for such a long time.

Jesus, laid in the tomb

I wonder what it was like in that moment between the cross and the tomb. The uncomfortable stillness. The tense emptiness. I wonder what it was like to be there, to witness an empty cross and an empty tomb.

Jesus Dies For Us
““Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.” Death is never something I like to think about. At funerals, I don’t even go near open caskets unless that person means a great deal to me. Yet this passage constantly reminds me of my grandfather’s death. It was a sudden death from an aggressive cancer. He struggled to breath throughout his stay at the hospital as his lungs filled with what I think was pneumonia even with the help of oxygen and a BiPAP machine. And when it was finally his time, his last breath sounded more like a sigh of relief like peace was finally truly his.