For weeks, I’ve been praying for more of Jesus’ love—to experience it, to be filled with it, to overflow with it toward others. For weeks, we’ve been studying Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and I’m amazed that the crucifixion was only part of Jesus’ suffering. The flesh of Jesus endured constant jostling by the smelliest, dirtiest, nastiest people in the land (so much so that he didn’t know he was touched by a woman who had been vaginally bleeding for 12 years); suddenly, I realize how much I hate to be touched! I don’t even like to be bumped around by people I married and gave birth to and who have showered every day! And I’m claustrophobic!

He erupted into the world—encapsulated Himself in flesh and blood, subjected Himself to time in order to live the perfect life for us, so that… He could obliterate the bounds of time and flesh and meet us Spirit to spirit, dwell in and among each of us forever and always. Paul’s explanation of what the Holy Spirit means for us overwhelms me when I hold it up against the feelings of inadequacy I have as a mother to be everything to my children.