Stress level = 11. A hard conversation about hard numbers that don’t add up, no matter how we try. A tricky writing job weighing on and waiting for me.
We pray.
I pour a big glass of wine and get to work. The words aren’t easy, but they come. In 60 minutes time, I have more than what I wanted.
It occurs to me that sometimes the goodness of God is as drinkable as a big glass of wine. Then I remember this isn’t a new idea.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus poured a glass of wine and held it in his holy hands, as yet unpierced by nails. (That would come the next day.) He handed it to his best friends each in turn.
This is my blood. This cup is my life.
Feel it warm you and strengthen you. Drink down the mystery of my flesh for yours, my blood for yours. Share this cup. Not the strife, or the pain. Not the beatings or the lacerations or those nails. No. Share the celebration. Share the victory. Share the goodness.
Share the wine.
UPDATE: Another meditation on the goodness displayed in wine.
