The words linger in the air as I realise that our time together has suddenly become real. Every week we four gather and we listen to the words of our maker. We ask for his help, we praise his goodness to us, we plead for the ones we love. We listen as his word rains on us and we try to let it soak into the soil of our lives. Hardly knowing the depth of our parched-ness, we allow trickles.
Eyes drift, minds wander, tongues search for the expected answer. Then it arrives, the truth shining like a glistening drop of rain. My friend looks to Jesus and sees disgust in his eyes, for her and for her broken-ness. The heat that evaporates each tiny raindrop before it can penetrate and refresh.
Compassion and love fills me as I listen, a tiny glimpse of the Father's heart, hearing self-condemnation and blame. She hides from the expected judging, disappointed eyes, and misses the look of grace, forgiveness, love.
I psychologise internally, but bite it in. No point in theorising, understanding humanly why. All that matters is to share the truth, the rain. God is love. Jesus looked into the eyes of a sinful woman and said "Neither do I condemn you".
For each of us, his broken body on the cross has shared the bitter, disappointment of our daily failure to love. Disgust is defeated. For each of us, his risen body brings the renewing, forgiving, spirit into our lives. A foretaste of pure life with him in a golden city, thirst-slaking from the spring of the water of life.
He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."