Wrapped in blankets and clutching our styrofoam cups of instant hot chocolate, we watched the horizon for a hint of rising sun as cars rumbled through the gravel lot and people settled onto the wood planked benches.
Sharing the portable mic, we alternated lines. My adolescent son agreed to help voice the Easter poem I had been asked to share between resurrection hymns. It was an unexpected sacred and tender moment in the midst of a rather disappointing sunrise service (as the fog never did life enough to catch a glimpse of the rising sun).
The assembled congregation was a handful of households from each of seven local churches. As acquaintances mingled over glazed donuts and steaming coffee, I noticed one elderly woman remained seated-- eyes fixed on the horizon, tears streaming down her face. Her pastor broke away from our conversation to comfort her.
The image of her hunched form, braced against the cold, tearful in the gloom, has stayed with me. This is a true Easter moment; embracing the reality and grief of loss, the risk of hope, the steadfast faith of staying present. We often think of the moment of resurrection as the high point in the Christian story, but truly, it is the moment of crucifixion. For when all seems lost, when it seems like God’s plan has failed, it is in that moment that the apocalyptic events cascade into resurrection and renewed hope.
God created. God walked with Adam & Eve. God connected with the people in the tabernacle and then the temple. God took on flesh and walked among us. And when that physical, earthly presence ended the physical veil of separation from the Most Holy Place was torn.
As if God were proclaiming:
I have always been present.
I have always been near. I am here. I am with you.
Jesus’ death is the decisive turning point in the whole biblical story, when God’s power unmasks and overwhelms the powers of this world, where humanity has done its worst, where what humans intended for evil, God turns and redeems for good.
At the moment of Jesus’ death, creation convulses and boundaries break. It is in that moment-- that torn veil moment-- that heaven and earth meet and begin to move towards wholeness and renewal.
The disciples and followers of Christ in this part of the story are worried and frightened. The vision of the world and the coming kingdom don’t match with the reality of their current situation, and yet, it is in that very moment of desolation that the world is again shifting and changing. God is still at work. God is still present. God is surprising and moving and making something new, beyond what they can perceive with the perspective and hopes that they have been holding.
While our church celebrations mark Easter with alleluias, anthems and colorful spring blooms, the resurrection moments in our discipleship journeys often look much more like foggy sunrises and tearful tenacity. Thanks be to God, there is space for both.
A Blessing for Breaking
May you remember that our God is the God of resurrection hope.
May you remember that sometimes what feels like breaking apart, is really breaking open.
May you trust that God is already at work, joining heaven and earth
And may you see God in the everyday, everywhere….
For God is there and always has been.
Spiritual direction is one of the sacred spaces, where we pause to notice and name where God is at work. As a spiritual director, I companion people on the discipleship journey, and together, we remember or discover where God has been present, moving, calling, working miracles. And at times, it is doing the soul work of holding that precious and tender space of hope, waiting for the reveal of the resurrection moment. If you are interested in learning more about spiritual direction or scheduling a soul care session, you may do so here.