The profound mystery of union with Christ

Connected for eternity, separated by life

People from every nook and cranny of the earth

Bound together by the love of God

Gone but here, absent and present

Women and men, girls and boys all the Son of God

All of us so different and yet the same because now we are one

We are one body, one church, one with the firstborn over all creation

And now we have Dad’s power

Power over death itself

The ground may claim us, but God is going to claim us back

No grave, no time, no distance can ever separate us from one another

We have won, we are one

So, for all the saints who from their labor rest

We rejoice because you have the first taste of victory

You taste each moment, our Father’s power over death

You no longer suffer

You no longer weep

You no no more faith

For what we hope for you know in certain

You know in fullness what we see in part

So on this day of remembering we celebrate

We rejoice in an every day reality

The dead in Christ are forever alive

Those who seem lost to us are never truly lost

For we are one

One body, one church, one baptism, one people

We rejoice in you, our brothers and sisters who have gone before us

So soon shall we be together in forever, so soon, so soon

It happened today

Avoidance was defeated, truth set in

The reflection said everything

Pictures may be worth a thousand words but the reflection I saw spoke volumes

I saw myself for the first time in a long while today

I really saw myself, the truth, the naked reality of who I am

Comprehension was slow in coming though, that the person staring back at me in the mirror was me

Where did those lines come from?

How did that happen to my skin?

Have youth and vitality left my face forever?

Scabs

Open wounds

Jagged scars

Grime

Filth

All along a part of me knew what must be there

Knowing and wanting to know are so different though

The strength to stand in front of that mirror escaped me

Until today, and now that I know I can’t stand knowing

There it is; this is who I really am.

How could the image in my mind be so different from the reflection staring back at me?

I don’t know, don’t want to know this person

Me

But the hands of time aren’t going to start turning backwards

The damage is done, written in the filth on my face

What could heal these wounds?

How can something so soiled ever again be clean?

It happened today, I saw the truth.

Now what am I to do?

O Lord, what am I to do?

Old wounds long since healed still ache

My skin is rough and scarred

Reminders of a past mutilations of skin and soul

I can look at each one and remember the moment pain was written on my life

Still not sure if the pain lingers in my memory or my skin

My savior bears scars himself

Walked out of the grave, death defeated

Still scarred from the wounds we put on him

His wounds are healed and healing

Absorbed to heal my own

This scar tissue tells my story

Not just the story of my failure but the story of my redemption

If not for these wounds I would not know the love of my savior

His grace would still be hidden from me

But I look at the scar tissue and long for the day the healing will be complete

Scar tissue is testimony of my God’s love

Scar tissue no longer festering with sinful infection

Scar tissue to show the world

Scar tissue to offer hope

Scar tissue, thanks be to God

Hope comes from good grief indeed

We all lose and lose and lose again and yet somehow we win

Grief is good, good for the soul

Like the flexibility found in ligaments learning to stretch further than before

Grief gives our faith a good stretch

Death plays tricks with our minds, makes us doubt grace is present

But death becomes a present, unwrapping grace never before discovered

Hidden in death is the truth of life

Hidden in grief is a better way to live

Hidden in grief is goodness

For a faith built around death that brings life

A God that died for us to live

Should we be surprised death ignites our faith

Good grief, the grief that gives us hope

Thank you Lord for the privilege of mourning

Thank you for the gift of grief made good

For when we face death we can say without irony or doubt, “Good Grief”

And we are right indeed

No one wanted to take the blame or the credit

You crucify him, no you do it, they yelled back and forth

No one wanted the blood of Jesus on their hands

Slowly, excruciatingly, determined he walked

Wood digging into open wounds

Wounds given not because they were deserved or earned

Wounds given by a scapegoat looking to avoid making a decision

Wounds taken for me, endured for me, bleeding for me

No one wanted the blood of Jesus on their hands

Walking, lumbering up steep hills of cobble stone

Crowds jeering, yelling, profaning the precious one

Walking onwards towards death and life

How dare they mock my precious one!

And yet, I am there too mocking and cursing he who would die for me

No one wanted the blood of Jesus on their hands

Lying in a heap his body broken

Soldiers make others carry his burden

Determined, unwilling to let pain win out

He rises from the ground to drink from his cup

Not the soldiers, not the crowd, not the people he loved

No one wanted the blood of Jesus on their hands

Finally there, but barely begun

The skull looms, showing what must be done

The wails can be heard from all around

Wails from the wounded, the mourning, those jeering them on

No one wanted the blood of Jesus on their hands

Raised above the wails and insults

A cross high on a hill stands

My savior, my God, my all

Exposed in helpless torture for evil to celebrate

Yet he would not curse them, found only love

Forgave the thief, a home for his mother he found

Yet there he died, God of us all

We all have the blood of Jesus on our hands

It is hard Lord to call this day good

Desires fill us to go back and stop your pain

Yet you were unwilling to pass on the cup given to you

A cup none of us had the strength or love to drink

A cup filled with your redeeming blood

Instead we ask to be covered in your blood

Cover us from head to toe, do not stop with our hands

Cover us and make us new, beside your cross let us stand

Picking up our crosses we come

Following our savior, our precious one

Overflowing with dishes encrusted in yesterday’s meals

A  sink full of dishes waiting to be cleansed

A passerby may think they were clean, but reality is found in the pungent odor of decay

How can we be so blind? We miss the truth of our creation.

Dirty dishes aren’t useful to anyone.

You can fill them with anything of worth and there is no image reflected when you hold them up to the light.

Too often we only glance at superficial realities. Seeing only what we want others to see.

They may see us as cups clean and shiny

But reality is found inside with built up layers foulness

Years worth of decaying food layered one on top of the other

Come Lord and do some dishes

Take a sink full of rotting useless dishes and make us useful and brilliant

If we are chipped and broken, piece us back together and make us whole

Fill us to overflowing with your water of life and use us to fill those who thirst and hunger

A sink full of dishes, forgotten, walked by, ignored

May your church be cleansed again

Not to sit and look beautiful on a shelf somewhere

But to be used in service of the world

Luke 11:39-41 “Then the Lord said to him,’Now then, you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You foolish people! Did not the one who made the outside make the inside also? But, now as for what is inside you – be generous to the poor, and everything will be clean for you.”

World is transforming

Quiet

Beautiful

Clean

All the ugliness has begun to fade

Heavens have opened and down it falls

Glazed over and shimmering

The light of heaven reflected off of every surface

The sun is hidden but the world has never been brighter

Heaven’s peace, the Glory of God

None can escape it

We live in a world whose rules of changed

Fall, fall down on us Heaven’s Snow

Make us something beautiful

Hide our pathetic attempts to make the world better

Lay a new canvas and paint a new scene

Then on the day of your jubilee we will know joy

Joy like a child on a sled

Letting go of inhibition and fear

Sliding, flying, cheering, without another thought

Rejoice for Heaven’s Snow has fallen

Small boat

Strong current

Nets that are worn

I have no idea what I am doing

Nothing has prepared me for this

Unsure

Terrified

Intrigued

Obedient

Feeling a little seasick

The guide said the big catch is out here

Where? Now? How?

What are we doing?

Why am I listening to him?

I don’t think he has ever even fished before

Nets are out

I must look like an idiot

Everyone knows I shouldn’t be here

I am afraid

Whoa!

Big tug

Pulling us down

Boat is listing

Nets are stretching

We found the fish

I think I am about to drown

How did he know?

Why me?

I have been trying so hard to do this my way

Guess it didn’t work

New way is better

I have no idea why

Wants me to fish again

Different method

Different catch

Different life

Says I shouldn’t be scared

Yeah right, what does he know

I’m going anyways

Still scared

But I think I am getting my sea legs

I’m gonna need some bigger nets