Today’s Lectionary Readings: Psalm 88; Exodus 14:10-15:18; Matthew 28:1-10; Romans 6:3-11; Psalm 27
One of my character defects is that I’m not a person who does well with abstraction; I LOVE things to be as concrete as possible. Because of this, I don’t have the ability to appreciate a lot of things that other people do. Take me to an art museum, for instance, and I’ll avoid the modern art room(s) like the plague. I avoid the modern art room(s) because I have little if any ability to “get” what the artist is trying to convey. I’d much prefer to look at a striking landscape painting – something that I know what it’s about. Same thing goes with my ability to absorb abstract language. For years I avoided poetry like the plague since poetry never seemed to “get to the point” in ways that my concrete mind could grasp. Consequently, when it came to my times of devotion, I had a difficult time engaging the Psalms. Everything about my perspective on poetry changed for me when I entered seminary, however, because I had a great professor who helped me experience the Psalms not just as abstract expression of a particular literary form but as a concrete expression of one’s faith life. I started paying attention to the depth of emotion and the permission-giving nature of the Psalms to help us express ourselves no matter what stage of our faith journey we are in. Needless to say, I finally fell in love with the Psalms. Today’s first Psalm does a beautiful job capturing the mood of this Holy Saturday – a day in Holy Week that helps us understand what it means to spend time in a dark void, not knowing what lies ahead. Eugene Peterson paraphrased Psalm 88:9-12 to read as follows: “I call to you, God; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?” Those words help me emotionally “get” the depth of feeling involved in Holy Saturday. Of course these raw emotions aren’t just restricted to Holy Saturday – they are emotions we sometimes encounter in our day-to-day lives. I know I felt these feelings most powerfully in my life when during my third and final year of seminary I thought I had lost my call to ordained ministry. I spent nearly five months living in a tomb like state until the stone was rolled away and I experienced a sense of new life by reclaiming my call to ordained ministry. Have you ever had a similar experience – a time in your life when you felt the constraints of the grave pushing in on you? If so, let us give thanks for a God who is with us not just during the good times, but the bad as well: a God who is big enough to receive our heart-felt pleadings at even the darkest of moments of our lives; a God who NEVER leaves us in the grave! May we draw strength from this realization in these final hours before the dawn that always lies before us. Til next time…
One of my character defects is that I’m not a person who does well with abstraction; I LOVE things to be as concrete as possible. Because of this, I don’t have the ability to appreciate a lot of things that other people do. Take me to an art museum, for instance, and I’ll avoid the modern art room(s) like the plague. I avoid the modern art room(s) because I have little if any ability to “get” what the artist is trying to convey. I’d much prefer to look at a striking landscape painting – something that I know what it’s about. Same thing goes with my ability to absorb abstract language. For years I avoided poetry like the plague since poetry never seemed to “get to the point” in ways that my concrete mind could grasp. Consequently, when it came to my times of devotion, I had a difficult time engaging the Psalms. Everything about my perspective on poetry changed for me when I entered seminary, however, because I had a great professor who helped me experience the Psalms not just as abstract expression of a particular literary form but as a concrete expression of one’s faith life. I started paying attention to the depth of emotion and the permission-giving nature of the Psalms to help us express ourselves no matter what stage of our faith journey we are in. Needless to say, I finally fell in love with the Psalms. Today’s first Psalm does a beautiful job capturing the mood of this Holy Saturday – a day in Holy Week that helps us understand what it means to spend time in a dark void, not knowing what lies ahead. Eugene Peterson paraphrased Psalm 88:9-12 to read as follows: “I call to you, God; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?” Those words help me emotionally “get” the depth of feeling involved in Holy Saturday. Of course these raw emotions aren’t just restricted to Holy Saturday – they are emotions we sometimes encounter in our day-to-day lives. I know I felt these feelings most powerfully in my life when during my third and final year of seminary I thought I had lost my call to ordained ministry. I spent nearly five months living in a tomb like state until the stone was rolled away and I experienced a sense of new life by reclaiming my call to ordained ministry. Have you ever had a similar experience – a time in your life when you felt the constraints of the grave pushing in on you? If so, let us give thanks for a God who is with us not just during the good times, but the bad as well: a God who is big enough to receive our heart-felt pleadings at even the darkest of moments of our lives; a God who NEVER leaves us in the grave! May we draw strength from this realization in these final hours before the dawn that always lies before us. Til next time…
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