It's been a long time since I blogged. I almost forgot how. I have forgotten that I love to write. I've needed to do this and I didn't even know I needed to do this. But here I am. And it's Thursday. I think they call it Maunday Thursday. I'm not sure about all that stuff. I've never been one to go overboard on Easter, but I never want to forget that all the events of this week actually took place. I never want to forget that Sunday Came in all its glory. There are so many things flooding my mind as I write this. Short synopsis: donkey, celebration, friends, body and blood, lambs, remembering miracles, a whole people who had been let go and set free, roosters, swords, dice, a sponge full of vinegar, mercy, forgiveness, compassion, thunder, darkness, perfumes, sorrow, tears, fear, shock and surprise, wonder, vision, relief, belief, disbelief, breakfast, peace...
I read somewhere recently that the Jewish people took the lamb into their home for several days before they slaughtered it and wiped its blood over their doorposts. I wonder if that's true. If it is, it reminds me of the disciples spending those last days with Jesus. They were right there eating, drinking, sharing time and space with The Lamb. No wonder they were in denial. Here is this one precious, loving, kind, gentle friend celebrating and remembering that dark and miraculous time in their history. Of course, you wouldn't want to think or believe that soon he would die even though he tried to prepare them. Ugh. Put yourself in that place, in their shoes. It is completely overwhelming. It changes how you see the story when instead of words in a book you place yourself there and imagine all the things that took place in that one week that changed everything. It's good to remember that it is not only a story we tell to remember it, but that we are also part of that story.
I hate that we have taken such a remarkable story and cheapened it with decorated eggs, bunnies and baskets of candy. We are stealing a rich and glorious story from our children. I'm not opposed to having a little fun. Not at all. I rather enjoy using my imagination. But imagine if we allowed ourselves and our children instead to imagine what it was really like when Jesus showed up on Sunday and threw a big party to celebrate. What if they knew he would show up on their Sunday. Some of our kids are living in situations that feel a whole lot like Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Heck, some of us are living there too. I have news for us. Sunday came. Sunday is here. Everyday is Sunday. He is here. Immanuel. God with us. And to top it off we also have Holy Spirit! The King of Imagination! I never want to go back to Thursday. I don't want to forget what had to happen to get to Sunday but I want to celebrate everyday like it's Sunday.
So let's go there and imagine heavily walking to that garden to sit by a tomb and mourn for your best friend and when you get there and it's wide open and there's nothing - no one - there. What would you think? Where would your mind go? And then you see him. He's actually standing there right in front of you. Disbelief, rubbing your eyes, not wanting to turn away but wanting to turn away, relief that he's not simply gone, remembering the words he had spoken, slowly beginning to believe, wanting to run to him and never let go but being told to go and tell the others, ("what?!! leave you? No way! Fine but don't move. I'll be right back!") And then running as fast as you can and bursting into the room where everyone is crying and wailing and sitting there still stunned and fearful. They turn and look and they see you - you are ecstatic and glowing and full of joy! They must have thought she was insane.
I wonder if anyone thinks I'm insane. I want them to. I want people to wonder about me. Lately I haven't been feeling very full. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I've lost my wonder. I haven't taken the time to sit and let myself be filled. I've let other things fill my time and thoughts. That's one thing blogging does for me. It fills me to imagine where God fits in my life. Or rather where my life fits in God. Yes, that's it. Where do I fit in the story? Imagine a huge jigsaw puzzle of the most beautiful and amazing mosaic. We are each a piece of the mosaic. We fit right into our place. Without any one of us it is incomplete. Though it is still beautiful on some level, it is not finished. Maybe some of us are not yet our full piece. I know I'm not. What if all the puzzle pieces are in place but they're not yet the size they will be upon completion? They are growing and ebbing and almost there and then shrinking back. Man, I could go with that picture and be there for hours.
But I've rambled enough for one day. So many thoughts. So much love. Sunday came.