Kind of ironic that today's word is rise. I spent the whole day in bed and am posting this from my phone while curled up in a mass of blankets. I'm not getting up anytime soon. Yet I keep hoping I'll just feel better and get up and attend to all the chaos that lies waiting for me beyond my bedroom door. But still, I lay here feeling sick.
Lent isn't over yet. There are still days of darkness ahead. It is not yet time for rising or for the hallelujahs that joyfully greet Easter morning. We must go with Jesus on his final journey through Jerusalem. His bittersweet goodbye to his best friends, his tormented prayers in the garden, the dark sky, the ripped curtain. We wait expectantly for promises of what lies ahead, even if our moments are dark and isolating. We too will rise again, into new selves reformed by the hand of God. And this present suffering and darkness will melt away. Even if we can't grasp it. Even if we can't describe it or understand it. Faith is trust. So we hold his hand and walk into the Passion.
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