My husband enjoys fruit with his breakfast, but I often find the frozen kind we buy hasn’t been defrosted enough for my taste; strawberries akin to icy ping pong balls just don’t cut it in the morning. So, Keith buys a variety of fruit juices for me. For reasons known only to him, he insists on placing them  (which only I use) and the almond milk (which only I use) and the protein powder (the kind that only I use) on the top shelf of our cupboard. This necessitates my dragging a burlwood kitchen chair weighing slightly less than my Prius over to the cabinet so I can stand on it and access my groceries. In the alternative, I hoist myself backwards on the countertop and twist to attempt to reach awkwardly-shaped and fragile glass bottles.

 Incidentally, this storage system doesn’t apply to foods that he uses regularly: there are not one, but two containers on the surface of the kitchen island, filled with cookies and chocolate bars.

The other day I asked him why he kept putting my things up high, and he said (soundly like the Big Bad Wolf), “The better to keep track of what you’re  consuming, and what we’re spending.” Before I could finish my eyeroll, he added, “Sleeping with the Accountant.”

At the end of last week Christians observed Good Friday, commemorating the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. One event that occurred at His crucifixion is not always mentioned, but of utmost symbolism: “And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit. Then behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom; and the earth quaked, and the rocks were split, and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the graves after His resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many. So when the centurion and those with him, who were guarding Jesus, saw the earthquake and the things that had happened, they feared greatly, saying, “Truly this was the Son of God.” (Matthew 28:20)

Obviously a lot happened surrounding Christ’s death and resurrection, but my focus here is the tearing of the veil in the Jewish temple. The use of the Greek word katapetasma for the curtain indicates that it was the innermost veil, the one separating the outer area from the Holy of Holies, to which only the high priest was permitted access, and then only once a year on Yom Kippur, to offer sacrifice for the sins of the Jewish people. Historians understand the dimensions to have been thirty feet wide, sixty feet long, the thickness “of a man’s hand,” or about four inches, and weighing four tons. Its supernatural destruction is a picture of the truth that Jesus’ death forever opened the way for mankind to be reconciled to God.

Yesterday we celebrated His resurrection, the triumph over death that is the foundation for our present faith and hope for the future. I’m grateful I don’t have a cosmic accountant who’s keeping track of a lifetime of my mistakes. As King David wrote, “For as the heavens are high above the earth, So great is His mercy toward those Who fear Him; As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103:11-12)

Now that’s an accounting I can live with. Forever.