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I am writing this down on my blog diary (and adding it here . . .) as an expression of my faith, my love and my gratitude to Christ, who is forever so loving in my eyes. I'm taking this time to specially remember our Saviour (as I would like to remember and to celebrate Easter) during this season of LENT. Nothing is gonna change how I worship my Lord here.

With words beyond description. I can only say, "Thank-you Lord, from the bottom of my heart!"

I remember that there’s a beautiful song by Darlene Zschech which expresses the essence of my heart. Here goes :

At the Cross

Verse 1
Oh Lord You've searched me
You know my ways
Even when I fail You
I know You love me

Your holy presence
Surrounding me
In every season
I know You love me
I know You love me

Chorus
At the cross I bow my knee
Where Your blood was shed for me
There's no greater love than this
You have overcome the grave
Glory fills the highest place
What can separate me now?

You go before me
You shield my way
Your hand upholds me
I know You love me
Chorus
At the cross I bow my knee
Where Your blood was shed for me
There's no greater love than this
You have overcome the grave
Glory fills the highest place
What can separate me now (x2)

You tore the veil
You made a way
When You said that it is done (x2)

And when the earth fades
falls from my eyes
You stand before me
I know You love me
I know You love me

Chorus
At the cross I bow my knee
Where Your blood was shed for me
There's no greater love than this
You have overcome the grave
Glory fills the highest place
What can separate me now (x2)


You tore the veil
You made a way
When You said that it is done (x4)

~ by Hillsong.

When all is said and done, are we doing our best to live this truth, to live as those who know, with a certainty that feels like conviction, that we are truly and unconditionally loved by God?

All that's being said . . . to me, reflection of LENT simply means: is a way to place ourselves before God humbled, bringing in our hands no price whereby we can ourselves purchase our salvation. It is a way to confess our total inadequacy before God, to strip ourselves bare of all pretenses to righteousness, to come before God in dust and ashes. It is a way to empty ourselves of our false pride, of our rationalizations that prevent us from seeing
ourselves as needy creatures, of our "perfectionist" tendencies that blind us to the beam in our own eyes.

Through prayer that gives up self, we seek to open ourselves up before God, and to hear anew the call "Come unto me!" We seek to recognize and respond afresh to God’s presence in our lives and in our world. We seek to place our needs, our fears, our failures, our hopes, our very lives in God’s hands, again. And we seek by abandoning ourselves in Jesus’ death to recognize again who God is, to allow His transforming grace to work in us once more, and to come to worship Him on Easter Sunday with a fresh victory and hope that goes beyond the new clothes, the Spring flowers, the happy music.

Ahh! But it begins in ashes. And it journeys though darkness. It is a spiritual pilgrimage that I am convinced we must make one way or the other for genuine spiritual renewal to come. I have heard the passage in 2 Chronicles 7:14 quoted a lot: ". . .if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." This usually is quoted in the context of wanting revival or renewal in the church, and the prayer is interpreted as intercessory prayer for others. But a careful reading of the passage will reveal that the prayer that is called for here is not intercessory prayer for others; it is penitential prayer for the faith community, for us. It is not to call for others to repent; it is a call for us, God’s people, to repent. It is our land that needs healed, it is our wicked ways from which we need to turn, we are the ones who need to seek God’s face.

Perhaps during the Lenten season we should stop praying for others as if we were virtuous enough to do so. Perhaps we should take off our righteous robes just long enough during these 40 days to put ashes on our own heads, to come before God with a new humility that is willing to confess, "Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner." Maybe we should be willing to prostrate ourselves before God and plead, "Lord, in my hand no price I bring; simply to the cross I cling." That might put us in a position to hear God in ways that we have not heard Him in a long time. And it may be the beginning of a healing for which we have so longed.

"O Lord, begin with me. Here. Now!

It's nothing about me but You, whom all the glory due!"

Oops! My eyes are wet . . .