Clock-changing day: love falling back, hate springing forward.
We had a sermon on the crucifixion today. It’s always hard to hear, but still the best news there is. All the pain and suffering and mocking and darkness is because of me; but the final, victory cry means that it’s over, and I’m safe, and loved, and free.
It is finished.
We also sang a proper old-school hymn, and a brilliant one at that.
How’s this for a chorus?
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
In summary: clinging and cherishing, while being cherished and clung to.