Before You, we will gather
in a sanctuary drained of its color.
The saints’ form will show,
but their vitality will seem lost for now.
How tempting it will be
to revel in the darkness,
to taste our bitter mortality,
to consider all we will lose,
to fall into the overwhelming sadness
over the fragility of it all.
But there is more.
There is the call to repentance –
turning our eyes away from self-pity
towards Christ’s pity for a world
aching with injustice and indifference
but filled with people making heroic efforts
to make a change.
See what breaks Jesus’ heart
and let it break my heart.
Let it break.
Let it be.
But there is more.
There is the call to redemption –
tasting despair, we know to ask,
we begin to yearn
for a God who has the power to save —
though that terrifies us
for it is beyond our understanding
(and therefore our control);
though we dismissed the thought of salvation
once we were too educated;
though we gave up on the
swoop-in-and-rescue salvation;
though we foolishly conflated fairy tales’ happily-ever-after
with the gospels.
Fragile, broken-hearted, redemption-hungry people
are the ones ready to begin the long journey.
Even in our standing to follow,
we are already being saved –
in the dark sanctuary, there is air in our lungs;
during the difficult times, there is resilience in our step;
though it will not come in this lifetime, there awaits a forever rest
that will come for all.
Look, there is more.
The Guide bids us follow.
Stand up, O Mortal, and come forward for the ashes.
“Dust you are,
to the dust, you will return,
redeemed and dancing.”
Tonight, our oldest will accompany me to our Tenebrae service. Seated next to me, I will envelop him with my black-robed arm wrapped around his little body, as he watches the scene that unfolds – haunting melodies, dramatic scripture readings, descending darkness. I wonder how wide his eyes will become when we reach the pinnacle of the service and the Bible is slammed shut, the candle extinguished, and we sing in the dark.
By the time I reached the car, rain drops had already began their assault. I quickly started the car, opened my phone to detect GPS’ best route home, and set out down the block. My weather app struggled to pull up the radar, as if it sensed all the dark greens, oranges, and reds would be just too much to handle.
pause.give.thanks 