Here we are, the eve of Good Friday.  Tomorrow, I will go to church.  I will sit down and read the crucifixion stories of the Gospels.  I will sit in silence and think.  I will write my confession, walk up on stage, and drop it into the mouth of a very large fluorescent refrigerator box fish.

Yes, a fish.  The teaching series of Lent was on the book of Jonah (and how that involves the prophecy of Jesus).  It was chuck full of all kinds of amazing symbolism that fit perfectly with the season.  Being thrown off a boat and puked onto the shore by a fish teaches us lots of things (especially about fish anatomy).  The moral of the story being, sometimes we have to die to things in order to live.  Winter teaches us that.  Lent teaches us that.  Jesus teaches us that.

Hence, a fish.

I will drop my confession in the belly of that fish in all its cardboard and Krylon glory.  I will give away those anxieties and fears and screw ups.  I will shift the weight of those things that keep me up all night.  I will be free of them.

At least for a little while.

And then, I will take communion for the first time in my life.

I will die to the parts of my life I don’t like anymore.  I will die to the unhealthy doubting and hiding and pretending that I haven’t changed in 10 years.  I will die to making believe this process wasn’t perfectly planned just for me.  I will be redeemed.

I’m terrified.

And sooooooooo stoked that I could dance in the street.

I hope you have a fabulous Easter weekend, friends.  I’ll catch you on the flip side.

Em.

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