For the first time in more years than I can remember, I am not involved in worship for Good Friday. It's strange but surprisingly liberating to sit quietly at home, read scripture and reflect on the Cross.
Sophie, the tabby cat whose name means"wisdom" is asleep on my knee. For a time, she was lying so that the markings on her back were directly in my line of sight.
can you see the cross on her back, almost donkey-like amidst the stripes?
Whoever wants to follow me must deny themselves and take up their cross daily.
It made me wonder, as I ponder Jesus' death on the cross, what that means for me.
I may not have a cross etched permanently on my back, no visible sign to remind me, but perhaps when I spend time with Sophie, and enjoy her beautiful markings, I will remember the horror and the beauty of Calvary and find myself drawn again to follow in the footsteps of my LORD.