My, My, My

My, My, My
Focusing on the Savior
by Audra Johnson

Resting outside the heavy metal door at the bottom of the cold brown steps, a colorful palm branch boasted its odd, displaced beauty to a stately downtown work district.

Aged a few days and slightly fragile, the branch was likely a leftover from the previous Sunday's early-morning celebration. How it made the journey from a worshiper's (or perhaps a reluctant participant's) hand to the cold concrete outside my office building was quite the enigma, but one that made me laugh a little as I left work on the Thursday night before Easter, known in some churches as Maundy Thursday.

For a second, I pondered picking up the wandering branch as a reminder of the ones I had held and waved about excitedly on all the Palm Sundays of my childhood. It sat so squarely in front of my door, so bold against the gray of stone and brick and bare trees, that I thought maybe God sent it there just for me.

It was possible. It was Holy Week, and the year that had passed since last Easter had been filled with tremendous spiritual growth, brokenness, and revelation of all kinds. It would be no surprise that the Lord would show Himself in the form of this symbol of this most sacred of weeks. But I chose to leave the palm branch on the ground in the hope that someone else would notice it and ponder its existence as I had.

As I walked a few blocks to my car, I couldn't get the palm branch out of my head. It was just too random and too perfect NOT to have been divinely placed. There HAD to be some significance! What did this lovely method of welcoming and honoring a King mean for my life? What was He trying to show me for my next few days of observation in Holy week? As I continued to seek and pursue the Lord's will, what was He gently trying to communicate about His will for my life?

My, my, my. Seemed to be a word I used a lot, huh?

The truth is, I don't know if God really put that branch there for me or not. Or if He did, if there was some grand message to it. I don't think so. I don't know that it matters ... all I know is that it got me thinking about Him.

For the next couple of days leading up to Easter, I reflected on how much I tend to make my faith all about myself most of the time. What does God want ME to do? What is God's will for ME? MY life? MY ministry? My, my, my?

It's true, I'm experiencing a period of more intense spiritual refinement and challenges than I ever have before, so it's kind of natural to think about the "my" aspect of life ... but for a few days' pause, I was snapped back into an amazing time of just plain, simple, awesome worship of my Savior. He knows exactly what He's doing with me and my life, and I've been confident of that for some time. It was beyond time to let my stuff go for awhile and just sit at His feet and think about Him ... on Friday, what He did for all of us on the cross, and on Sunday, the victorious resurrection and celebration that He is risen indeed.

On Easter Sunday morning, we sang "My Savior Lives" just moments after the lights were turned up and the blinds raised, allowing glorious sunshine to fill the sanctuary ... what a powerful moment! I sang and smiled with joy I hadn't known in recent history, and even laughed as the irony of the song sank in ... MY Savior Lives. My, my, my. But that morning, "my" was simply a joyful declaration! I was able to lay down the worries and uncertainties of my human heart and worship the One who died to save it, and so many others.

I'm glad I left the palm branch there. I didn't need to take it. I just needed to see it for its purpose — to welcome the arrival of my Savior.