Dry Roast

This morning saw a coffee date with a friend who packed up her family and headed to the hills to escape the suburban life only to discover God had other plans placing her temporarily back in the very same burb. It's been a pleasure to know she is transplanted here in Pleasant Suburb. (It doesn't hurt that she is usually accompanied by a cup of java and some sort of treat when we meet up.) I never know where conversations with her will go, but I'm usually willing to go along. Today we plunged into some topics not frequently found in standard conversation.
We tumbled into a verbal chasm of sin and sacrifice. That valley is one of dry bones, but I'm not too sure if I could fathom its depths. (Or if I really want to.) Christ came to love the unlovable. And the very next thought was that Christ came as a sacrifice. What an unpalatable thought that I (you? we?) might be called on to sacrifice for an undesirable someone else's benefit. And in some meaningful, personal way. Not just giving up a little cash, some possessions, or time, but something deeply rooted in the most hidden depths of the soul.
Because I claim to seek to become more Christ-like. And that means sacrifice. Am I ready to begin to apply that idea to the sorts of things I find most repulsive, or am I still holding tightly to my own belief in being somehow more upright than another because in my mind their sin or crime is somehow worse than my own?
I need another cup of coffee.