A Day of Silence...
Wednesday of Holy Week.
A Day of Silence.
Perhaps not a day of silence, but a day when Scripture is quiet. Mark 14.1 and John 12.1 indicate this day exists in Holy Week, but the silence is almost deafening in a week filled with such beauty and pain.
So it's on this day that I reflect upon the fact that our Lenten journey is about to come to a dramatic close for this year. But for some who wander, for some who are in the desert of life, for some who are in pain... Their Lenten journey does not end here.
As we approach Easter. As we celebrate. As we proclaim life, wholeness, and the Kingdom of God... Please know you are not forgotten. In the moments where you do not see the victory of resurrection or the restoration of the Kingdom... We will worship on your behalf. We will celebrate for you. We will dance and sing and shout with joy.
We do not do this to mock your pain. You are not forgotten. We will continue to proclaim the resurrection on your behalf until your wandering in the wilderness ends and you may put away the sack cloth and ashes.
I met a man this week who smiles through his tears. For there is death and life this week for his wife. He has no greater hope and joy as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus because He is celebrating the resurrection of his wife. That as she awakes this Easter week, she does so to the very face of Jesus welcoming her home and saying, "well done my good and faithful servant." So her husband smiles through his tears as he journeys through the wilderness and we dance with joy on his behalf. Inexplicably heartbreaking and beautiful.
Like that of Elijah's story...
For there are moments when God is not in the wind. Nor the fire. Nor an earthquake. But He is in the stillness, in the quiet.
For there are moments when God is in the wind--a wind that would part the Red Sea. For there are moments when God is in a fire--like that of a burning bush. And there are moments when the stillness is vanquished by an earthquake--like the one when a great stone was rolled away, and Jesus was raised from the dead.
For Jesus is the resurrection and the life.
So on this day we listen closely in the quiet. A people who have great hope. A people who are waiting and listening for the stone to be rolled away.
A Day of Silence.
Perhaps not a day of silence, but a day when Scripture is quiet. Mark 14.1 and John 12.1 indicate this day exists in Holy Week, but the silence is almost deafening in a week filled with such beauty and pain.
So it's on this day that I reflect upon the fact that our Lenten journey is about to come to a dramatic close for this year. But for some who wander, for some who are in the desert of life, for some who are in pain... Their Lenten journey does not end here.
As we approach Easter. As we celebrate. As we proclaim life, wholeness, and the Kingdom of God... Please know you are not forgotten. In the moments where you do not see the victory of resurrection or the restoration of the Kingdom... We will worship on your behalf. We will celebrate for you. We will dance and sing and shout with joy.
We do not do this to mock your pain. You are not forgotten. We will continue to proclaim the resurrection on your behalf until your wandering in the wilderness ends and you may put away the sack cloth and ashes.
I met a man this week who smiles through his tears. For there is death and life this week for his wife. He has no greater hope and joy as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus because He is celebrating the resurrection of his wife. That as she awakes this Easter week, she does so to the very face of Jesus welcoming her home and saying, "well done my good and faithful servant." So her husband smiles through his tears as he journeys through the wilderness and we dance with joy on his behalf. Inexplicably heartbreaking and beautiful.
Like that of Elijah's story...
For there are moments when God is not in the wind. Nor the fire. Nor an earthquake. But He is in the stillness, in the quiet.
For there are moments when God is in the wind--a wind that would part the Red Sea. For there are moments when God is in a fire--like that of a burning bush. And there are moments when the stillness is vanquished by an earthquake--like the one when a great stone was rolled away, and Jesus was raised from the dead.
For Jesus is the resurrection and the life.
So on this day we listen closely in the quiet. A people who have great hope. A people who are waiting and listening for the stone to be rolled away.
I love this. And you. I don't think I've struggled so much through Lent before... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the sorrow and the mourning. I want the Easter and the joy and the empty tomb. But I can't appreciate the empty tomb and love the resurrection without mourning for the sacrifice.
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