Tag Archives: easter

spring forward

I Samuel 8

The leaders of the people went to Samuel. “You are getting old,” they explained, “and your sons are not wise and fair like you. We want a king, like the nations all around us.”

Samuel was unhappy about this. He prayed to God.

“It is not you they have rejected as leader,” said God. “It is me they have rejected as king.

source: the Lion Day-to-Day Bible, March 27

Oh, but this hit hard last night around the dinner table. For me, it is a stunning revelation just before Good Friday. How many times have I cried out to God, “This is hard. This is unfair. Fix me, fix them, make spring come.” And He says, “It’s not you; it’s me. Spring is coming. Walk a bit farther.”

Friday, the sky will go dark. But spring… Spring comes on Sunday. Amen.

I do not like this world.  It has its moments of beauty… its promises of New Life, its whispers of Better Things to Come, but I am not in love with this world.  It is too excruciating to be welcoming, too fickle to be a friend, too broken to be home.

There is nothing ‘good’ about tomorrow. Good Friday. It remembers a day when the sky went dark, when friends betrayed friends, when a mother watched her son march through the streets a prisoner, when the weight of the world was cast on one man, and when a father watched a nation turn on his son. Friday? Friday is awful.

I am an Easter person in a Good Friday world. (-Barbara Johnson)

I am waiting for Sunday.

Sunday, I will sing and pray and give thanks.  And, I will think of you… and you… and you… all you who are tired of fighting alone.  I will walk with you!  I will carry some of your Friday, and you will carry some of mine.  And we will make it to Sunday… whenever that glorious Sunday comes… we will make it there together.

[from HOLY WAR]

This season should come as no surprise, but when winter with its heavy brown coat obscures the living earth, it’s easy to believe the land will remain in a sort of permanent dormancy. Last year, we think, the flowers bloomed. But at the sight of the season’s new-birthed radiance we gasp, as beauty floods senses and spirit as if a promise — perhaps long-forgotten or, in some cases, doubted — is fulfilled.

Alleluia. Alleluia.

We strive to understand these mysteries: That grief will turn to joy, that suffering will lead to glory, that death will lead to life. And yet we ever bear witness to this truth:

Winter is the harbinger of spring.

[from Margie’s Yet.]

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holy war

On Saturday, Curt and I spent our 6th year at Joe’s Big Race as volunteers, planners, or racers. On Saturday, a friend was racing with his father… and his father collapsed suddenly and passed away.  On Saturday, a man exactly my father’s age, in better shape than my father, left without warning.  The family is fighting.

My best friend’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She waged war and won, and has the scars to prove it.  She is fighting.

My friends have lost two babies in 2 years.  They are fighting.

My daughter cannot speak.  She cannot run straight, and many days fights to simply keep her undies on her little bird buns.  She is fighting.

Our friends, our dear sweet friends, are dealing with early onset Alzheimer’s.  Earlier this month, the husband placed his wife in a nursing home.  She is battling the horrible stage where her brain knows something isn’t right but cannot make sense of it, leaving her in a constant state of anxiousness.  He, newly retired, now lives at home alone.  He is fighting.

I am shaken.  I do not like this world.  It has its moments of beauty… its promises of New Life, its whispers of Better Things to Come, but I am not in love with this world.  It is too excruciating to be welcoming, too fickle to be a friend, too broken to be home.

There is nothing ‘good’ about tomorrow. Good Friday. It remembers a day when the sky went dark, when friends betrayed friends, when a mother watched her son march through the streets a prisoner, when the weight of the world was cast on one man, and when a father watched a nation turn on his son. Friday? Friday is awful.

I am an Easter person in a Good Friday world. (-Barbara Johnson)

I am waiting for Sunday.

Sunday, I will sing and pray and give thanks.  And, I will think of you… and youand you… all you who are tired of fighting alone.  I will walk with you!  I will carry some of your Friday, and you will carry some of mine.  And we will make it to Sunday… whenever that glorious Sunday comes… we will make it there together.

Keep fighting!  It is a holy war. And while the battle is often bleak, I can PROMISE you the ending is worth it.