Bright white light flickering; steel gray in the wind above the angry and softly rolled cotton, dirty and cold clouding the wind-blown white woolen blanket below, delicately dusted spindly pine and desert junk on the burgundy bedrock - no sound, all muffled soft, wrapped in 'winter like a frozen blanket. Call them images: visual, tactile, auditory; call it figurative language in metaphor or simile; call it a description – call it what you want, but recognize what it is… just a moment in time, a snapshot, go nowhere, do nothing – a photo. In the world of literature, one might appreciate such an image, but one might argue that for all the beauty of the imagery, plot is king. The plot depicts the windswept winter desert plateau, the canvas for the character: the lone horseman, gun on his shoulder, blood dripping from a boot, hard face towards the dawn, a column of smoke at his shoulders, family and house on fire and dead – puts the description into the journey of the story – with a place behind and a place to go – the plot gives meaning to the image. As we consider the season of Lent again, with its vivid images and fetid aspects of sin, one very important thing to keep in mind is the plot. Not just to get stuck in the descriptors, but to see them as the plots unfold. This evening we will deal with a small part of Luke's story in this way: let's not go beyond the plots in Lent. Luke writes in chapter 22:1-6… Following our theme shouldn't be a problem: as you've heard, even the most casual ear picks up textures aplenty in the image Luke presents. But first, maybe how we got here: the backstory? In establishing a plot, an author usually uses exposition or background information about the setting, the characters, the plot... the center of the paper... the sin, the canvas of life: a pack walking together, to times limping and lame or strong, missteps and traps around, but faces surely set for the dawn, the gaping jaws of death behind us, family and home waiting ahead - a flicker of warm, bright light shine there, no sound but joy, wrapped in God's love like a blanket. God inserts the description of our sin into the path of his salvation history. With a place behind and a place to go, God's plot gives meaning to our images. In literature, it is sometimes called the “long-term” ending: it tells what happens to the characters at a significant time in the future. The beautiful details of the image of Christ, our Passover Lamb, mean one thing for our future image. Call it resolution, call it closure, call it the “long-term” ending – call it what you want, but recognize what kind it will be – happy.