This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.
It is indeed over. There is a sickening finality to it all. Why did it have to end like this? Why did it have to end at all? We were just beginning to understand. We were just beginning to get what we were supposed to be doing. And now it is over. And then there’s this darkness. It’s never been this dark at this time of day. It adds to the pall of our souls. We have to go back now. But to what? After all, deep down we know that he changed us. How can we live now in the world? How can we go back? And yet, in this moment of our deepest despair, we remember that we have found love. Life will be different because we have found love.
Father, forgive.
Jesus, I do not like endings. I was just getting comfortable. I want to go back—to mangers, and stars, and picnics on the hillside. Your love, though, tells me to go on. Give me strength to walk in that love even in the midst of grief, to walk in the light even in the shadows. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment