Well , I'm back from a fabulous trip to New York City. It was a great mix of business and pleasure. I love that city.
I went to see Groud Zero again -- nothing has really changed. It's as if our progress at the footprints of the twin towers is existing in a parallel universe with efforts to seek justice against those who committed the act of war that brought them down. It makes one wonder if we will have to wait until our nation's leaders truly seek that justice (which is not in Iraq, btw) for those open wounds in NYC to be closed up. It's hard for a Midwestern to feel the closure necessary to move on when when you see the site. I can't imagine what it must be like for a New Yorker.
Probably the coolest thing that happened was when we went over to visit the John Lennon Imagine Memorial in Strawberry Fields at Central Park. I had been there before when I visited New York on a family girl's trip, but it was dark by the time we got there. The memorial is just across the street from the Dakota where John Lennon was gunned down. So on Friday after training, Kristin and I met up with Kimberly on the other side of Central Park at 5th Ave and 60th St. It was bitter cold that day and we were all hungry too. I said it was OK if we skipped the visit to the Memorial, but Kristin insisted we go right then -- which was the only time we would have been able to do it in the daylight. So we headed out across Central Park. As we got closer to Strawberry Fields, we saw a big group of people. And then we started hearing singing. I looked at Kim and said "What the freakin' date?" It was Dec. 8! The 26th anniversary of John Lennon's murder. I was blown away. We stood around with the other Lennon fans and sang Give Peace of Chance, Jealous Guy and some other songs. It was very moving and built on my NYC/Lennon experience. The last time I was there, it was John Lennon's 64th birthday. So Yoko had an art exhibit going with his art work at a gallery in SoHo. It was called When I'm 64.
For those of you who don't know, I've been a hard core Beatles fan since I was 10 and heard the Abby Road album. In 1980, when I was 15, John Lennon was killed. I'll never forget waking up in the morning after it had happened and watching the news. The world came to a standstill for me. I cried all day long. That spring at my HS choir concert, I did a solo in honor of Lennon and sang Imagine.
I can't wait to visit New York again and see what my next Lennon experience is!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Annology Update: Grandson II is here!
Well, he finally graced us with his presence and he is beautiful. Yesterday afternoon by newest grandson was welcomed to the planet. His name is Ephraim Joel Edward Ball. He weighed 8lbs 4 oz and was 21 inches long. He looks a lot like his big brother Zeddicus, except he has his mother's beautiful dark hair (and maybe Grannie Annie's curls!). When I saw the ultrasound picture in December, I thought his profile looked a lot like Adam's and I was right. He is another beautiful little Ball boy with a pinch of Marks and Gonyea to make him quite exotic looking.
Ephraim already seems curious about the world around him for a little human with only a few hours under his belt. He had his eyes open and was very alert last night. Mom and Dad are doing well and learning first hand how much your heart grows when you welcome a second child into your lives. It's such are hard concept to understand after you have a first child. You don't think it's possible to love another child as much as you love your first. And then you experience it. It's one of the true miracles of our human condition. And for grandparents, it's magnified by about 500 percent.
I'll post some new pictures too, and hopefully I'll get a few more today.
It is amazing how much hope an experience like this instills in you. These days it's so easy to believe we are all going to hell on a spoiled planet. It's so easy to lose the drive we need to change the course of things in this state, this country and this world. But between myself, my wonderful children (biological and extended) and now my amazing grandchildren, I think we can all be saved. We have it in us. Watch out world!
With much love and peace to all of you, Ann/Mom
Ephraim already seems curious about the world around him for a little human with only a few hours under his belt. He had his eyes open and was very alert last night. Mom and Dad are doing well and learning first hand how much your heart grows when you welcome a second child into your lives. It's such are hard concept to understand after you have a first child. You don't think it's possible to love another child as much as you love your first. And then you experience it. It's one of the true miracles of our human condition. And for grandparents, it's magnified by about 500 percent.
I'll post some new pictures too, and hopefully I'll get a few more today.
It is amazing how much hope an experience like this instills in you. These days it's so easy to believe we are all going to hell on a spoiled planet. It's so easy to lose the drive we need to change the course of things in this state, this country and this world. But between myself, my wonderful children (biological and extended) and now my amazing grandchildren, I think we can all be saved. We have it in us. Watch out world!
With much love and peace to all of you, Ann/Mom
Annology: Conquer Ore to Shore Bike Epic -- CHECK!
I Did It!!!
For those of you who don't know, I've been training all summer for the 2007 Ore to Shore (O2S) Bike Epic Soft Rock event. The Soft Rock is a 28-mile mountain bike race that starts right down the street from my house in Negaunee and snakes its way through mostly U.P. two-tracks that Mother Nature is desperately trying to re-claim at some points.
For those of you who do know about this, I would just like to say thank you for your support and patience -- especially in light of my nonstop talk about bikes, trails, fat tires on pavement, endos, scabs, hydration issues, "The Tank," "The DragonLady," etc., etc.
Well yesterday was the day! I got up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday (now, that's love) to get ready for the 9 a.m. race start. I had a really hard time sleeping the night before. I knew as soon as I let myself fall asleep, it was going to be morning and I was actually going to have to do what I told everyone I was going to do. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt there were huge alligators in my living room trying to attack me. Then I got tired of dodging the gators and just gave in and let one jump me, it really wasn't so bad. It didn't end up having any teeth and it really wasn't that heavy.
To back up a little, my personal goal was simply to finish the race this year. It's my first year after all, and I've only been mountain biking for about four months, Larry figures. I forgot to keep track, but it was cool enough to bike with pants and a jacket when I started taking The Tank out to Presque Isle and this past spring. When my niece Sam found out how much I liked biking, she encouraged me to joining Women Shifting Gears and register for the O2S race. I thought that was a pretty good idea. So I joined WSG and started telling people "I think I'm going to try the race this year."
Then I went on my first mountain bike ride with the WSG group. About 20 or so women and one very brave man met one night after work and headed out into the woods on, what I later found out, was one of the hardest rides they do. It nearly killed me -- and I'm talking about the little trek Sam and I took through the hilly neighborhoods to get to the meeting place for the ride. But I pushed through and did about 2 or 21/2 hours of biking. I hiked my bike up a lot of hills that day. I had to take MANY breaks to catch my breath. I frequently wondered if I'd survive the evening. I certainly didn't think I could ever do a 28-mile race.
On the other hand, I met in incredible group of bikers who whole-heartedly welcomed me and taught me all kinds of helpful things about mountain biking. I experienced single track riding for the first time with whoop-de-doo hills, tree roots, rocks, berms and all kinds of obstacles and challenges you had to navigate. I was told I was a natural technical rider.
I was hooked.
That meant I was also going to need bike gloves, padded bike shorts, shirts make with wicking fabric, decent shoes, a camelback and I going to need a bike that weighed a lot less and worked a lot better than "The Tank," -- my $80 department store bike that was loosely labeled a mountain bike. So for my birthday, I got my new bike. I named her "DragonLady." She is a 300 HT Motobecane with Shimano trigger shift, derailleur and front suspension, and big knobby tires. She's sweet silver, and I can lift her over my head with one arm. When I got her I asked Larry if he minded if I kept her in the house. He said that was OK with him, just "not in the bedroom."
So yesterday morning while self-seeding myself into a mass of 1,000 other people hooked on mountain biking, I realized I had already won, really. I've changed so much over this summer ... physically, mentally, ecumenically, grammatically .... (oops, sorry. I started to channel Capt. Jack Sparrow there for a moment).
I would be really surprised if you found anyone who knows me who would describe me as any kind of an athlete, including myself. I've known for a long time that I am naturally strong and I have pretty good stamina. I had already identified in myself a different kind of satisfaction I get out of being physical and active. I've known for sometime that keeping a job in which I spend most of my time on a computer was probably ticking a bit of time off my lifespan in tandem with shortening my hamstrings.
But an athlete? NO!-- that was my brother Chris or my nephew Corey. They are athletes. Ivan DeJesus or Nadia Com--neci. Walter Payton or Isaiah Thomas. They are athletes. They are people who have this mastery over their bodies and focus that I had not experienced, not in any physical realm anyway. They existed in another segment of the population in which I just never saw myself.
I think mountain biking has changed that. Like I told Larry this morning, "I think doing that race has somehow changed my brain." Over the course of this summer I have had epiphanies about my body and sweating and breathing really hard. I think even more about the food I'm putting into my body and how it supports or diminishes what I'm asking my body to do. I've experienced times when I was so focused on the trail ahead of me that I shocked myself. What gears I was going to need to be in? How I should be positioned on my seat? What muscle groups should be working hard and which ones should be more relaxed? How much brake I should apply? If I feel like I can't go any further, can I just push myself to that tree or that telephone pole? "Damn that's a big hill! I'm going to have to kick its ass!" And so on.
By the time I got to the day I did my first (and only, so far) "endo," I was quite proud to have it happen. Larry and I were riding the trail that runs west and up hill behind Teal Lake from Negaunee and to Al Quaal on the Ishpeming side of the lake. There's a pretty steep down hill gravel road with a hairpin in it that connects the Negaunee trail into the Al Quaal trails. Rain had washed a pretty deep, narrow gulch in the road. (It must have been an ancient rain since it hasn't really rained here in months, attested to by the torturous amounts of sand on the race course yesterday!) I was thinking about how to navigate the hairpin turn at the bottom of the hill when I hit the gulch at the top of the hill. My front tire just stopped and I felt myself starting fly into the air. In my peripheral vision I saw the back of my bike coming up over my head on the right side. I flipped and hit the gravel and the bike hit me. I didn't let go of the handlebars. I had some pretty good road rash on my knee and elbow and I was upset because Larry didn't even see it. He was already on the other side of the hairpin. No witness! Dang! I thought about a golfer who goes out at the butt-crack of dawn for a quiet loner round of golf and gets a hole-in-one on the back of the course ... and then ... "Wait a minute. I just wiped out on my bike and I'm comparing it a hole-in-one? What is going on with my synapses?!"
So I am changed. I plan to keep this new facet of my Self nurtured and growing. Yesterday I didn't think I could ever do another bike race. I was totally wiped out. But today, I'm already trying to figure out whether I should try to convince Larry that we should go do the 13-mile course in the Fat Tire Bike Festival in Copper Harbor Labor Day weekend. **bat my eyelashes at Larry here**
Speaking of Larry, he has been a great partner in reaching this goal I set for myself. He too has embraced mountain biking. It is a blast, after all. But for a guy who really doesn't like to be hot or deal with the abundance of bugs in the U.P. woods, he really went the distance -- waiting at the bottom of hills yelling for me to keep pedaling and not give up, riding up the hills on Co. Rd. 510 with me just so I could see if I could do it, and being understanding of late dinners after weekday rides. Thanks, Babe. You truly are my hero!
Finally, I just have to say that crossing the finish line and hearing "Ann Gonyea of Negaunee" was one of the biggest thrills of my life! Sam and Larry were there waiting for me and cheering, as were so many people who didn't even know me! But I could feel all the good U.P. and mountain biking vibes as I pushed as hard as I could to the end. It is an incredible feeling of accomplishment. All at the same time I'm so proud of myself, incredibly blessed by all the people who helped me prepare for this, and amazed that at 43 I've discovered this athlete in me. I love that about life. Just when you think it can't get any more incredible, something new just knocks your socks off. I can't wait to see what's next.
I'm sure writing this long-ass blog entry is part of this personal journey I've been on, so if you stuck with it and read the whole thing, you get a special thanks for letting me bend your ear.
Keep Pedaling -- Ann "Sporty Spice" Gonyea of Negaunee
P.S. My stats:
I finished the 28-mile course in 03:27:46. for an average pace of 8.1 mph.
I was 32 out of 39 in my age group for women and 813 out of 864 overall. Pretty good for a middle-aged newbie who couldn't pedal through a hilly neighborhood a few months ago, eh? BTW, I plan to do it again next year. Who wants to join me?
For those of you who don't know, I've been training all summer for the 2007 Ore to Shore (O2S) Bike Epic Soft Rock event. The Soft Rock is a 28-mile mountain bike race that starts right down the street from my house in Negaunee and snakes its way through mostly U.P. two-tracks that Mother Nature is desperately trying to re-claim at some points.
For those of you who do know about this, I would just like to say thank you for your support and patience -- especially in light of my nonstop talk about bikes, trails, fat tires on pavement, endos, scabs, hydration issues, "The Tank," "The DragonLady," etc., etc.
Well yesterday was the day! I got up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday (now, that's love) to get ready for the 9 a.m. race start. I had a really hard time sleeping the night before. I knew as soon as I let myself fall asleep, it was going to be morning and I was actually going to have to do what I told everyone I was going to do. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt there were huge alligators in my living room trying to attack me. Then I got tired of dodging the gators and just gave in and let one jump me, it really wasn't so bad. It didn't end up having any teeth and it really wasn't that heavy.
To back up a little, my personal goal was simply to finish the race this year. It's my first year after all, and I've only been mountain biking for about four months, Larry figures. I forgot to keep track, but it was cool enough to bike with pants and a jacket when I started taking The Tank out to Presque Isle and this past spring. When my niece Sam found out how much I liked biking, she encouraged me to joining Women Shifting Gears and register for the O2S race. I thought that was a pretty good idea. So I joined WSG and started telling people "I think I'm going to try the race this year."
Then I went on my first mountain bike ride with the WSG group. About 20 or so women and one very brave man met one night after work and headed out into the woods on, what I later found out, was one of the hardest rides they do. It nearly killed me -- and I'm talking about the little trek Sam and I took through the hilly neighborhoods to get to the meeting place for the ride. But I pushed through and did about 2 or 21/2 hours of biking. I hiked my bike up a lot of hills that day. I had to take MANY breaks to catch my breath. I frequently wondered if I'd survive the evening. I certainly didn't think I could ever do a 28-mile race.
On the other hand, I met in incredible group of bikers who whole-heartedly welcomed me and taught me all kinds of helpful things about mountain biking. I experienced single track riding for the first time with whoop-de-doo hills, tree roots, rocks, berms and all kinds of obstacles and challenges you had to navigate. I was told I was a natural technical rider.
I was hooked.
That meant I was also going to need bike gloves, padded bike shorts, shirts make with wicking fabric, decent shoes, a camelback and I going to need a bike that weighed a lot less and worked a lot better than "The Tank," -- my $80 department store bike that was loosely labeled a mountain bike. So for my birthday, I got my new bike. I named her "DragonLady." She is a 300 HT Motobecane with Shimano trigger shift, derailleur and front suspension, and big knobby tires. She's sweet silver, and I can lift her over my head with one arm. When I got her I asked Larry if he minded if I kept her in the house. He said that was OK with him, just "not in the bedroom."
So yesterday morning while self-seeding myself into a mass of 1,000 other people hooked on mountain biking, I realized I had already won, really. I've changed so much over this summer ... physically, mentally, ecumenically, grammatically .... (oops, sorry. I started to channel Capt. Jack Sparrow there for a moment).
I would be really surprised if you found anyone who knows me who would describe me as any kind of an athlete, including myself. I've known for a long time that I am naturally strong and I have pretty good stamina. I had already identified in myself a different kind of satisfaction I get out of being physical and active. I've known for sometime that keeping a job in which I spend most of my time on a computer was probably ticking a bit of time off my lifespan in tandem with shortening my hamstrings.
But an athlete? NO!-- that was my brother Chris or my nephew Corey. They are athletes. Ivan DeJesus or Nadia Com--neci. Walter Payton or Isaiah Thomas. They are athletes. They are people who have this mastery over their bodies and focus that I had not experienced, not in any physical realm anyway. They existed in another segment of the population in which I just never saw myself.
I think mountain biking has changed that. Like I told Larry this morning, "I think doing that race has somehow changed my brain." Over the course of this summer I have had epiphanies about my body and sweating and breathing really hard. I think even more about the food I'm putting into my body and how it supports or diminishes what I'm asking my body to do. I've experienced times when I was so focused on the trail ahead of me that I shocked myself. What gears I was going to need to be in? How I should be positioned on my seat? What muscle groups should be working hard and which ones should be more relaxed? How much brake I should apply? If I feel like I can't go any further, can I just push myself to that tree or that telephone pole? "Damn that's a big hill! I'm going to have to kick its ass!" And so on.
By the time I got to the day I did my first (and only, so far) "endo," I was quite proud to have it happen. Larry and I were riding the trail that runs west and up hill behind Teal Lake from Negaunee and to Al Quaal on the Ishpeming side of the lake. There's a pretty steep down hill gravel road with a hairpin in it that connects the Negaunee trail into the Al Quaal trails. Rain had washed a pretty deep, narrow gulch in the road. (It must have been an ancient rain since it hasn't really rained here in months, attested to by the torturous amounts of sand on the race course yesterday!) I was thinking about how to navigate the hairpin turn at the bottom of the hill when I hit the gulch at the top of the hill. My front tire just stopped and I felt myself starting fly into the air. In my peripheral vision I saw the back of my bike coming up over my head on the right side. I flipped and hit the gravel and the bike hit me. I didn't let go of the handlebars. I had some pretty good road rash on my knee and elbow and I was upset because Larry didn't even see it. He was already on the other side of the hairpin. No witness! Dang! I thought about a golfer who goes out at the butt-crack of dawn for a quiet loner round of golf and gets a hole-in-one on the back of the course ... and then ... "Wait a minute. I just wiped out on my bike and I'm comparing it a hole-in-one? What is going on with my synapses?!"
So I am changed. I plan to keep this new facet of my Self nurtured and growing. Yesterday I didn't think I could ever do another bike race. I was totally wiped out. But today, I'm already trying to figure out whether I should try to convince Larry that we should go do the 13-mile course in the Fat Tire Bike Festival in Copper Harbor Labor Day weekend. **bat my eyelashes at Larry here**
Speaking of Larry, he has been a great partner in reaching this goal I set for myself. He too has embraced mountain biking. It is a blast, after all. But for a guy who really doesn't like to be hot or deal with the abundance of bugs in the U.P. woods, he really went the distance -- waiting at the bottom of hills yelling for me to keep pedaling and not give up, riding up the hills on Co. Rd. 510 with me just so I could see if I could do it, and being understanding of late dinners after weekday rides. Thanks, Babe. You truly are my hero!
Finally, I just have to say that crossing the finish line and hearing "Ann Gonyea of Negaunee" was one of the biggest thrills of my life! Sam and Larry were there waiting for me and cheering, as were so many people who didn't even know me! But I could feel all the good U.P. and mountain biking vibes as I pushed as hard as I could to the end. It is an incredible feeling of accomplishment. All at the same time I'm so proud of myself, incredibly blessed by all the people who helped me prepare for this, and amazed that at 43 I've discovered this athlete in me. I love that about life. Just when you think it can't get any more incredible, something new just knocks your socks off. I can't wait to see what's next.
I'm sure writing this long-ass blog entry is part of this personal journey I've been on, so if you stuck with it and read the whole thing, you get a special thanks for letting me bend your ear.
Keep Pedaling -- Ann "Sporty Spice" Gonyea of Negaunee
P.S. My stats:
I finished the 28-mile course in 03:27:46. for an average pace of 8.1 mph.
I was 32 out of 39 in my age group for women and 813 out of 864 overall. Pretty good for a middle-aged newbie who couldn't pedal through a hilly neighborhood a few months ago, eh? BTW, I plan to do it again next year. Who wants to join me?
Monday, May 18, 2009
No. 1
Lifeline
What I’ve learned on my journey so far …
… it’s not necessarily a long list of , but what I think it’s a useful list.
As my kids have gotten older and started there own lives without parents to touch base with on a daily basis, here are some of the items on those list that I’ve hoped they’ve really heard:
1. Learn to want what you already have.
2. A relationship that lasts 30 seconds can be as important to your life as a relationship that lasts 30 years
3. Why would you pay a company to wear their logo all over your body? Shouldn’t they be paying you to be their billboard?
4. Clearly the Lord loves wondrous variety, so why try to be like everyone else?
5. Often, when you are feeling completely alone, you just have to be quiet and get out of your own way so you can hear what God is trying to tell you.
Of course, none of this is easy to do 100 percent of the time, but “easy” is not why we’re here. If life were meant to be easy, my life wouldn’t include struggles like heart-breaking fights with my husband, emulating Christ in a world that idolizes the likes of Paris Hilton and Ann Coulter, what am I doing with this career, and dogs who shed enough hair in the spring to create an alternative energy source all by themselves. We are here to challenge ourselves and mess up.
When I think about surrendering, I think of it as being wrapped up in how our lives unfold as people of God. Surrendering is also accepting that we, because God created us the way we are, bring wonderful things the world around us. It might be a certain talent or skill, the gift of our time or a shoulder to cry on. Only by surrendering ourselves, our troubles and our prayers to the will of God can we more accurately embody what God meant for us during our walk on this planet.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves,
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
~Nelson Mandela
I am often struck by the misinterpretation of the word “surrender,” as if it were always a sign of weakness or hopelessness. On the contrary, it is often the most courageous thing things you can do. Through Lent and Easter especially we are reminded of this by Jesus’ ultimate acts of surrender.
Indeed, the most striking evidence of Jesus' majesty, the one that clearly distinguishes Jesus' kingship from all others, is his physical location: on the cross between prisoners. Here, King Jesus is at his full majesty. The one bearing through his own free will the burden of all our fears, our hatred, our scandalous refusal to be free is our king. This broken man, rejected by God, forsaken, and reviled even by the criminal next to him, is the king whom we honor today. In this glorious act of surrender and hope, of unshakable fidelity to his people, Jesus embodies true royalty for all who shall follow him. Let no one be mistaken—if you seek worldly power and influence, look elsewhere. This is the king of surrender, who allowed himself to be broken so that he could call us to resurrection through our own brokenness. And when our little mustard seeds of faith allow us to surrender with him, "Amen, I say to you...you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43).
Living the Word: Wake Up! by Michaela Bruzzese
Column on Sojourners, an online periodical on faith, politics and culture (www.sojo.net)
What I’ve learned on my journey so far …
… it’s not necessarily a long list of , but what I think it’s a useful list.
As my kids have gotten older and started there own lives without parents to touch base with on a daily basis, here are some of the items on those list that I’ve hoped they’ve really heard:
1. Learn to want what you already have.
2. A relationship that lasts 30 seconds can be as important to your life as a relationship that lasts 30 years
3. Why would you pay a company to wear their logo all over your body? Shouldn’t they be paying you to be their billboard?
4. Clearly the Lord loves wondrous variety, so why try to be like everyone else?
5. Often, when you are feeling completely alone, you just have to be quiet and get out of your own way so you can hear what God is trying to tell you.
Of course, none of this is easy to do 100 percent of the time, but “easy” is not why we’re here. If life were meant to be easy, my life wouldn’t include struggles like heart-breaking fights with my husband, emulating Christ in a world that idolizes the likes of Paris Hilton and Ann Coulter, what am I doing with this career, and dogs who shed enough hair in the spring to create an alternative energy source all by themselves. We are here to challenge ourselves and mess up.
When I think about surrendering, I think of it as being wrapped up in how our lives unfold as people of God. Surrendering is also accepting that we, because God created us the way we are, bring wonderful things the world around us. It might be a certain talent or skill, the gift of our time or a shoulder to cry on. Only by surrendering ourselves, our troubles and our prayers to the will of God can we more accurately embody what God meant for us during our walk on this planet.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves,
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
~Nelson Mandela
I am often struck by the misinterpretation of the word “surrender,” as if it were always a sign of weakness or hopelessness. On the contrary, it is often the most courageous thing things you can do. Through Lent and Easter especially we are reminded of this by Jesus’ ultimate acts of surrender.
Indeed, the most striking evidence of Jesus' majesty, the one that clearly distinguishes Jesus' kingship from all others, is his physical location: on the cross between prisoners. Here, King Jesus is at his full majesty. The one bearing through his own free will the burden of all our fears, our hatred, our scandalous refusal to be free is our king. This broken man, rejected by God, forsaken, and reviled even by the criminal next to him, is the king whom we honor today. In this glorious act of surrender and hope, of unshakable fidelity to his people, Jesus embodies true royalty for all who shall follow him. Let no one be mistaken—if you seek worldly power and influence, look elsewhere. This is the king of surrender, who allowed himself to be broken so that he could call us to resurrection through our own brokenness. And when our little mustard seeds of faith allow us to surrender with him, "Amen, I say to you...you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43).
Living the Word: Wake Up! by Michaela Bruzzese
Column on Sojourners, an online periodical on faith, politics and culture (www.sojo.net)
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