August in Aberdeen, early morning mist, laden with drizzle, the crown and the cross silhouetted against soft grey skies.
The cross that, when lifted up will draw all people to the Crucified, seen rising above the trees, the gentle wetness seeping through branches and leaves, coalescing in large drops that fall as tears on those walking below.
The rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous; not a thow-away remark, but one of Jesus' one-liners in which is condensed an entire theology of the love that falls with extravagant benevolence, and gentle mercy, on our broken, God-made, love drenched world.
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