Darkness
But this morning...
When we aren’t looking
it slips quickly from our eyes...
The sun can be up before we even know it...
when we aren’t looking.
But, when we are waiting...
waiting for the darkness to dissipate
to give way to oranges and yellows
to purples and pinks.
It can seem like an eternity.
The darkness of those three days was longer...
longer than three days should ever take.
days, which have at times,
been years....
For darkness can seem like eternity
when we’re waiting for it to lift.
When all seems to have been stripped away.
When even Jesus has been taken from us...
Our tears of sorrow
for the longness of our own three days,
our hearts which have ached
for the pain of our own tombs,
join Mary’s tears now...
As they drip down her face
and settle in the corners of her mouth
tasting of salt...
so do our tears.
But this morning...
this morning there is something else;
something else laced
in the breath of the rising darkness;
something else mingled
in the dampness of weeping;
something else echoing in
the silence of empty...
Can you not hear Him in the whisper of the wind?
can you not feel Him in the chamber of your soul?
can you not taste Him on your lips?
We could not have dreamt
that something so empty
as a tomb
could fill us overflowing...
We could not have imagined that
darkness could become so
brilliant...
And yet it has -
with our own eyes
at the break of day we know that it has.
For that, that is the resurrection.
That empty is not the last word.
but rather - full.
that despair is not the last word.
but - hope.
That death is not the last word.
but - life.
that darkness is not the last word
but - light.
For then we can do none other than
join Mary again
and sing in glorious song,
“I have truly seen the LORD.”
*Sunrise meditation 2012 - Epiphany Lutheran Church
