The Day In Between

I decided to walk into the office this morning...no, not working (at least not officially) but I had agreed to proctor some exams for the sister of a friend, who is taking some extension courses through her university. The church offices on a Saturday provide a quiet place for her to take the tests, and it gave me a marvelous opportunity to walk a good, long walk on a beautiful spring day.

I was almost stunned by the beauty. Did spring really arrive overnight, or have I been so tired and stressed all week long that I just hadn't noticed it coming? The trees are in early golden flowered leaf (especially the maples), the birds are singing, and there are flowers and flowering trees, purples, pinks, whites, yellows, almost everywhere. It looked like Easter had come a day early! Except that two churches along my route both still had wooden crosses swathed in black, reminding me (with a beautiful poignancy, since they stood near flowering trees) that we're still experiencing the day "in between."

I don't think we in the church really know what to do always with the day "in between" Good Friday and Easter. At least not most of the churches of which I've been a part. It's something of a blank day. As we follow along in the Gospel story, Jesus has died and is not yet risen. The disciples are in the dark, literally (hiding in locked rooms) and spiritually.

Perhaps it's a day to enter into that darkness a little -- to know in our depths the sorrow that His closest friends and followers must have felt the day after the cross. To know in our depths what it cost God to win us back to himself, what it cost Jesus to redeem us from our subjection to evil and to death.

Maybe that's why we're given Psalm 88 in the morning lectionary. I've always found this to be one of the saddest Psalms -- there seems to be no real hope, not even at the end when so many Psalms (even of deepest, most harrowing complaints and pain) leap into a ringing affirmation (even Psalm 22 moves into a trust song).

Yet today, reading it again, I was struck by these questions the Psalmist cries out in verses 10-12: "Dost thou work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise thee? [Selah] Is thy steadfast love declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness in Abaddon? Are thy wonders known in the darkness, or thy saving help in the land of forgetfulness?"

When I read these on most days, I either read them (sadly) as somewhat rhetorical questions, or (on my better days) as heartrending cries of a lonely and broken heart, but still a heart not expecting to hear an answer.

What we know from the joyous truth of the resurrection we celebrate tomorrow, however, is that there is a resounding answer to these questions. The answer is YES! Jesus is the great YES! God's vindication of His son as he raises Him to new life is a YES! YES, God works wonders for the dead! YES, the shades will one day rise up to praise thee (along with everything else in all creation!) YES, God's steadfast love is declared...even in the grave! YES, God's wonders are known in the darkness (even of our own hearts and lives, even at the foot of a cross, even in locked rooms where we hide)! YES, God's saving help is known even in the land of forgetfulness (which is where most of us live so much of the time)!

May we never ever forget, Lord, the love that took you to that cross. May we never cease to praise and thank you for that love. May we never cease to marvel at how close death and life, sorrow and joy, really are. May we worship and adore you as our scarred and risen King.