Monday, April 13, 2015
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
It's Holy Week and I am honored to be able to share a Good Friday story at my friend Cara Strickland's blog, Little Did She Know. Would you join me over there and take a walk down cobblestone steps in Greece?
I don’t enter Holy Week without remembering. Each Good Friday I step on the carpet in our church, still bearing the resemblance to a warehouse, I see my feet walk down cobblestone streets and paved roads under the blanket of dark, illuminated by a thousand candles.
We were using what is called Terminal Leave, a way of saying my husband got to take a long vacation with all the time off he had saved during his years in the Navy. Some take it when they are done to receive a paycheck while looking for a civilian job, but we as were stationed in London we spent weeks backpacking through Greece, tracing the footsteps of Paul, which is how we found ourselves in Thessaloniki on a Good Friday eleven years ago.
I hadn’t noticed it was Easter weekend. The Greek Orthodox Easter was a different date than the one we planned to observe at our Anglican church. The first thing we noticed were the trucks. Earlier in the week as we traveled to Thessaloniki, we saw trucks full of sheep bleating out into the open air as they barreled down dirt roads. Just days later we would see those same sheep lining store windows as they hung upside down, skin removed, blood still dripping from their noses. Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.