Every morning when I walk by my coffee pot, I experience actual physical longing. So I whine and count the days until Easter when I can have it back.
But every time the longing hits, I imagine the fully divine Jesus, stuck here for 33 years trying to teach limited, harassed, confused, arrogant, stubborn humans like me how to live. How he must have counted the minutes until Easter.
Do you see how by doing what's right for someone else, your life gets richer and more interesting? In a puzzle of a thousand tiny pieces, a picture starts to form. This is our job. On earth, as it is in heaven.
Of course it's no sacrifice for me to have Shelby over, I love it when she's here, but some things I do are sacrifices, but even then I win. As I build this muscle, inclining my behavior toward justice for people who need it, I am satisfied. This is the system God built and it's incredible.
I think Jesus wanted to expose the central issue behind our fear: We don't know God's love for us. If we think God will be disappointed if we rush out ahead and fall down, we're unlikely to move very much.
But if He's your good father, won't he scamper up behind you, giggle a little at your daring, pick you up and brush you off? Then place your feet somewhere more suited to your skill level?
It's not unusual to feel like a better, freer version of yourself here; skipping down the street with a local friend, who has invited you to eat with her family, hopping over puddles because you have two more miles to walk and you don't want to get your shoes wet.
There is easy togetherness that occurs in cultures that place high value on human relationships. We respond to that because humans were designed to be together, but in the US, it's like we've found ways to make that as inorganic and difficult as possible.