Occasional, quirky, insightful, challenging observations on scripture, life, and prayer. If you would like to support this writing, please use PayPal link or Venmo @Thom-Shuman
“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Mark 16:8
if we could we would push you back into the tomb, repoint the stone and seal it back into place. but since you have already proven that will not work, we’ll just put you into that box marked ‘Easter’ along with the plastic eggs, cute stuffed bunnies, and some leftover chocolate (if the pastor didn’t eat it all) and store you in the back of the closet, making a note on our virtual calendar to let you out next year, if you promise to stop scaring us with this nonsense that death does not have the final word.
“They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” John 20:13
we have taken you away and made you the keynote speaker for those who believe power and wealth are the pillars of your teachings, as well as those who advocate for the needy while buying another house and increasing their portfolio. we have taken you away and hired you to be the advocate for unjust wars and the press secretary for those who talk justice but whose words turn to dust when it is time to work we have taken you away as far as we can from your simple gospel of love, grace, justice, hope, and inclusion, making it so complicated that even experts cannot agree— and all the while, you are planting gardens to feed the hungry, calling the forgotten by name, teaching children those games where the only rule is everyone gets to play on the same team, and hoping we will eventually notice where you are.
“I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel.” Psalm 31:12
silence is the only language needed on this day which sits like a bird on the fence between heartbreak and hallelujah. grief settles into our bones like a friend moving in for a stay. there are no stories to tell no miracles to share on social media, just the thick, silent, absence which sucks at our souls like quicksand. the promises seem to have slipped through our fingers, like lyrics to favorite songs we can’t recall. hope has gone underground, perhaps behind the stone, where we cannot see. and yet, like the earth where even now, unseen life is stirring, may the silence be but a pause and not an ending, a waiting, but never forgetting, because even in the stillness God has not stopped working.
“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:” Lamentations 3:21
we stand, not at the foot, but as far away as we can trusting your fading sight cannot see us, and yet you forgive us. as the soldiers mock the religious types cackle and thunder rolls in the distance and lightning provides the only proper lighting, we keep our mouths shut, and yet you forgive us. as you slowly lower your head and are swaddled in the chill arms of death, may we hear the hope you whisper in that moment:
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, is mercies never come to an end;” Lamentations 3:22
"Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’” John 13:7
we’ve been to a lot of funerals, but we still don’t know much about death but we do know a bit about trying to be faithful in a time when faithlessness is applauded. even though we sing and trust in that promise of Easter, we still can’t explain resurrection, but we do know a bit about trusting God with our lives even as we enter that dreaded valley of shadows. even with the hints and hopes, if truth be told, we are not sure where following Jesus will end but this night reminds us we are not left alone on this pilgrimage, even when it looks like we are.
"Jesus said to him, 'Do quickly what you are going to do.'” John 13:27b
the days, months, years, even generations it takes to get that immovable object called injustice to budge just a bit. the process we can create so that by the time a task force appointed and charged to improve school systems releases a rough draft, the kids have already graduated. gee, it’s funny how time slips away when we are asked to care for others, for creation, for the forgotten but turning our backs on you saying we don’t know you claiming we have no idea who you are or what you’re doing? that only takes a moment any moment every moment.
“And he said to me, “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified.” Isaiah 49:3
it’s not in the hallways where power prowls with arrogance, but in those lives tossed aside like stones unfit for building. it is not in the words of those who just cannot stop telling lies, but in the cracked voices singing about justice. it’s not when the bright lights of the media shine but in those alleyways where hope flickers. it is not in the exclusive club for the privileged, but in the shelters where stories are folded like frayed blankets. it is not in the five star restaurants with a waiting list of months, but in those palsied hands still sharing day-old bread. as we continue to drag our feet and stay as far back as we can on this road to the cross, remind us that, if we want to see your glory around us, we will find it in the least among us as we kneel before them to learn your way.
