it is the Sabbath. no work can be done – and so they waited. in shock and grief, they are completely separated from their beloved friend and teacher. no tender care can be given to his lifeless body nor sorrow shared in his presence. and so they waited for the dawn — a dawn like no other!
this day is still a day to wait. every year I feel awkward and impatient as I try to practice stillness. I, too, wait for the dawn – prepared for the sounds of joy as the story is told – I remember we are celebrating a Sabbath like no other!
The shadows shift and fly.
the air trembles,
thick with silence,
the footsteps are heard
and the noise
of the voice of God
is upon us.
The Holy One
is not afraid
on unholy ground.
The Holy Work is done,
and the world awaits
the dawn of light.
On the eve of Ash Wednesday, I often find myself in grateful reflection.. Another year has passed (ever notice how our church calendar gives us ample opportunity to re-member ourselves — mini New Years abound). This past year I have experienced God’s healing grace, reminded of the intricate pattern healing and wholeness weave. I have “walked” with others through death’s valley and celebrated the warm rays of resurrection. It has been a familiar year — God’s culture has touched me and my community.
On this eve of Ash Wednesday, I prepare for tomorrow’s task. With ashy finger tips, I will look into the faces of strangers and friends, children and adults, stroke the sign of the cross on their foreheads and remind each of where they came and will return. Each time the words are spoken I am moved by the reality of our fragile nature and feel God’s hand, palm open, gently cradle all of her beloved.
Once again we are free to be forgiven. And a new year begins…
40 days are before us. time to reflect, prepare, and renew. many conversations are buzzing around my community. conversation about church growth, ministry for youth, issues of no money, and the importance of tradition. all well and good – yet I am hearing an undercurrent that cries for an awakening.
I share this blog with you. her words are direct and challenging. could this work as a Lenten practice? I would like to think ‘yes’. Thank you, Tamie Fields Harkins.