Two Days

It has been a Holy Weekend of me wrestling with the reality that Christ wasn't for two full days. There was death. That was it. His family, his friends, his followers experienced the unimaginable - the complete and total absence of Hope. For two full days.

On Good Friday I sat in the sanctuary, staring up at the void. For where normally the Crucified Christ hangs dead center at the altar, a purple shroud had been draped. The solace and reverence I normally meditate on as I gaze into the pain-stricken face of my Savoir was unnervingly jarred. He simple wasn't there.

As we worked our way through the Stations of the Cross, I marveled at each point, immersing myself in the memory of Scripture and scenes from The Passion. The stained glass images were beautifully illuminated from the setting sun outside. They glowed with warmth, inviting and serene, even as they reminded us of Christ's torturous journey to Golgotha. We approached the twelfth station, finding me disappointed that the final three were not lit. Therefore the detail difficult to fully appreciate in their darkened state. Low and behold, they depicted the death, removal from the cross, and burial of our Lord. Once again, I was struck with what the Death of Christ signified. The Light of the World snuffed out and darkness fell.

This Weekend, in unexpected ways, has continued to point me to the Time Between. Between death and resurrection. Hours that had to have stretched on for an eternity. So many questions. So much despair. So little hope.

I know I dip my feet into dangerous waters when I say, "Thank you God, that I live now, and not then." - Because I know we ought not compare our situations to others, lest we sound like the Pharisee praying about the tax collector. But as I look at the lessons of this weekend, I cling to a fresh understanding of the Gift we have - we who live after the Resurrection. Because no matter the circumstances, no matter the amount of death, despair, or drudgery attempting to drown us, we have Hope. We have Light. We have Jesus. Praise be to God.

Stillness

 

Fantastic conversation last night with some amazing women of God. The topic: Daily Stillness (from Ann Voskamp's 25 Points Manifesto). Here are some thoughts from the discussion:

There needs to be a difference between taking a break and/or resting, and having stillness. Taking a break can be active, in that you can take a break from cleaning house to check email, or you can go for a jog after completing your accounting. But stillness requires a certain degree of inactivity and quiet. At most, stillness might include a Bible, a journal, some soft music. It is an act of listening, of quieting the mind to a state of contemplative peacefulness.

No doubt, stillness is a challenge for the more "Martha-esque" types. We Marthas need to figure out how to stop the multi-tasking for a moment and silence the constant inner dialogue. We need to recognize our tendency to purposefully distract ourselves in hopes of avoiding stillness and our inclination to fabricate a sense of busyness that excuses our neglectfulness.
Quite simply, stillness is waiting on the Lord. It is shutting up for once and giving Him room to speak. It is actively waiting on God by forcing yourself to be inactive. It is the opposite of busy. The opposite of anxious. The opposite of frenetic. Stillness forces you to face these things in your life and refuses to allow you to stay delusional about who you are and why you're here. But then just when you think that is the point, stillness sweeps in and gives you it's real gift: it gives you the freedom to just Be. It is our snuggle-time with our daddy. Where the worries of the day melt away and we remember we are loved, we are protected, we are cared for.

Go ahead. Be still.