An anonymous 4th century homily from Holy Saturday says, “Something strange is happening – there is great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.” All seemed quiet on the surface, but what about beneath?
Today takes us back to a day when the world was unmade. We are transported to an epoch when chaos reigned over the primordial waters from whence we came. The execution of the Son of God pulls apart the very fabric of reality. It is an absurdity, a cruel joke. Very God from Very God and flesh of our flesh dies. Yet even here, in the ashes of a world that once was beautiful, hope glimmers.
He bends to bring his kingdom here He bends to come near To abide with us
Very often I have not wanted a King to rule over me, nor the type of life that he offers. Very often I have drawn a line in the sand that places me on the side of ‘basically good people’, meanwhile projecting all my own sins on those I consider sinners of a greater degree and deserving of true wrath. I can see myself in the ugliness of that crowd, yelling, “Crucify him!”
We’re on the road with Christ | Dust on our feet | Nothing to eat | Nowhere to lay our heads, no sleep. Coded pattern of speech that the goats can’t breach | Told them slatterns this king brings hope to thee | Us folks will shatter the dreams of these “popes” to be. They’re puppets on a string with no authority. . .
The truth is, well, lots of things. One of the main ones being, I have encountered a lot of pain over the last few years for various reasons. That pain has changed the terrain of my soul. I’m still learning how to navigate the newly carved space from the suffering I’ve walked through – the Man of Sorrows is good company.
Often we start strong and introspectively examine our lives as we march towards the cross with Jesus. However, this upcoming week may be the hardest time to do that despite how often times many churches will host multiple services throughout this week. If you're anything like me, this week is the time to grow impatient with Lent, to wish that it would just be over so we could go back to our "normal" lives.
Thorns in my flesh Pain in my steps Needles in my heart Lament on my breath Agony in my gut Drags me into a rut Mercy of the Lord don’t seem to be enough. . .
So, here I am, finishing out these last weeks of the current school year, and what I see ahead is... space. While a growing portion of me is holding my breath, awaiting the opportunity for an enormous exhale, there is another part of me that is terrified. Too much open space scares me.
Do not forsake This heart of stone When I close off To be alone