Easter morning beckons us to come. It beckons us to come and see that the tomb is empty. The tomb - that once very recently was filled with the body of our Lord, whom we followed and believed with all that we had. The tomb that was once very recently filled with the body of our Lord, and our sorrow and grief and pain.
Easter morning beckons us to come and see that the tomb oh-so-recently filled with death and pain and grief and all our darkness - is now empty, and the graveclothes have been neatly folded. All is well - all is alive.
Easter morning beckons us to come and to gaze upon the beauty of the tomb that is now empty, just like that night we gazed so intently at the manger.
Easter morning beckons us to come. It no longer matters that we were the ones who doubted. It no longer matters that we were the ones who denied Jesus three times. It no longer matters that we had no idea what was going on. It no longer matters that we ourselves were the ones who betrayed him and sold our Lord away with a kiss for thirty pieces of silver. It no longer matters.
It no longer matters - because it is Easter morning! It is Easter morning, and the tomb of sorrow and guilt and shame and darkness is empty. It is empty, graveclothes folded, and the stone is rolled away. Oh the light that comes streaming - flooding - in, because today is Easter morning!
Today is Easter morning, and now nothing matters but that our light has come.
Arise, oh Church, shine; for our Light has come.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Lenten Prayer. 4.11.14
Lead me to your cross, my Lord Jesus.
How do I follow you in the path of your cross, into the darkness,
and sit with you there in your suffering?
How, when you have seen me grow squeamish in following even in the light,
when you have seen me deny you not three times but three million,
when you have dismissed me to sell you off in betrayal?
How do I follow you, I a sinner, condemned, unclean?
It is to life that we have been called, to life abundantly.
And the place you offer it is on the path of pain and suffering?
Of heartache and humility and abandonment?
You offer life through the darkness of darkest suffering? Never, my Lord!
But yes; it is true. Light emerges from the shadows;
life comes only after death; glory only after suffering.
Your way is not my way, oh my God.
Your path is not my own; your thoughts are high above mine.
For who could dream of beauty coming from a seed,
of life emerging from pain,
of darkest night bursting forth into glorious day?
You, my Lord. Only you.
Ok, Lord; I will follow.
How do I follow you in the path of your cross, into the darkness,
and sit with you there in your suffering?
How, when you have seen me grow squeamish in following even in the light,
when you have seen me deny you not three times but three million,
when you have dismissed me to sell you off in betrayal?
How do I follow you, I a sinner, condemned, unclean?
It is to life that we have been called, to life abundantly.
And the place you offer it is on the path of pain and suffering?
Of heartache and humility and abandonment?
You offer life through the darkness of darkest suffering? Never, my Lord!
But yes; it is true. Light emerges from the shadows;
life comes only after death; glory only after suffering.
Your way is not my way, oh my God.
Your path is not my own; your thoughts are high above mine.
For who could dream of beauty coming from a seed,
of life emerging from pain,
of darkest night bursting forth into glorious day?
You, my Lord. Only you.
Ok, Lord; I will follow.
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