I’m draping you in purple

This could be an unpopular post. Forewarning. Also, it’s not really a foodie post. Ah well. Good to break format once in a while.

875097-purple-wallpaper

Two things happened yesterday. A MUCH prayed for baby was born to a friend of mine—healthy and well, despite some early indications that it would not be so.
And the artist Prince died.

The contrast of these two things struck me this morning. I watched brief clips of people flooding the streets singing Prince’s music, weeping, while the city of Minneapolis draped itself in purple. And I thought how interesting it is, that we take so personally, so intimately, the loss of someone we never truly knew, because of how his work impacted our lives. And it made me think about how we value those around us.

Is value imparted because of how a person made us feel? Or because of the work they contributed to the world? Or because of who they knew? Is the life of Prince more valuable than the life of the baby that was born yesterday?

. . . My perspective is different because my heart was not tied to Prince’s music the way so many of my peer’s hearts are. He was amazing! And I am certain, now, that I missed out. I wish my teen years had been a little more touched by his work. But my perspective lends me a emotional distance. And here’s what I believe: Every life should be draped in purple.
Not because of what we bring with our accomplishments (or the lack of them). Not because of who we know (or don’t). Not because of the various social media votes we receive in all their numerous forms. But because of the intrinsic value placed on us from before the dawn of time by the hand of God. (This is the probably-unpopular part of the post I warned you about). I believe this with my whole heart. Every life, no matter how small, accomplished, flawed, broken, criminal, or deserving of death . . . no matter how celebrated, revered, awarded, or enthroned, has value. Only because God made it and God can redeem it. Even the very worst. Because, if I can’t believe this, then there is no hope. We are all capable of the very best—and the very worst.
So here’s what I’m doing today. I’m draping you all in purple. Every face I see today. Every voice I hear. Every man, woman, child, and unborn baby. I’m throwing that royal color around you in my heart and mind. Your life has intrinsic value. You are beautiful and loved and important. You are worth singing in the streets for. You are worth illuminated bridges and buildings.
You matter because God said so.
And I’m pretty sure He’s got a corner on the market when it comes to that kind of thing.
Right. I’m done. Off my soapbox.
Back to typical posts about my kitchen, things my kids say, and soup.
xo

the Diver

“One may think of a diver, first reducing himself to nakedness, then glancing in mid-air, then gone with a splash, vanished, rushing down through green and warm water into black and cold water, down through increasing pressure into the death-like region of ooze and slime and old decay; then up again, back to colour and light, his lungs almost bursting, till suddenly he breaks surface again, holding in his hand the dripping, precious thing that he went down to recover.”
—C.S. Lewis (Miracles)

 

I’m going to start off with a note acknowledging that this is a bold, personal post and I know not everyone reading it will agree or appreciate that I felt the need to post it. And that’s okay.

I have loved C.S. Lewis’s quote—or word picture rather—since the first time I read it.
It gives such clarity to the theological truths I live by. This idea of foolish, extravert Grace that strips down to nothing, and descends even farther—so far as to be cloaked by death, but not consumed. And all for something He considered precious, though by all appearances and realities, the “prize” wasn’t worth the cost it required to obtain it.
The very act of God’s plunge gave it value.
Lost things are given value—worth—by the one who searches.

This Sunday we celebrate Easter—the death of death. The plunge and rise of Christ for the sake of me, and you, and every broken heart that ever was or will ever be. It’s a celebration of all the “Re.” —Restoration and Rebirth, Rejuvenation, and Relationship if only we accept the outstretched hand and the offer of air.

This is a blog about food. About the things that nourish need. And I’ll be first in line to admit that my need goes far beyond physical. I crave wholeness in every aspect. Physical and mental, emotional, and spiritual. And praise God, who sent His one and only Son to earth, to plunge and rise again, that He refused to leave those needs unmet—yours and mine.

Happy Easter, Dear Ones.