THE PAINFUL PAUSE

As a little girl who grew up among the faithful, Easter was a time of great celebration. Sunday morning meant a hollow chocolate bunny tucked in plastic grass and pastel eggs covered in hairline cracks of vinegar hidden among the tulips. It was also a chance to proudly twirl the blue gingham carefully pinned and stitched in my mother’s sunny sewing room.

In my hands still stained by jelly beans, I would dutifully turn the pages of my Bible to the illustrations of Jesus’ cross on the left and His empty tomb directly across the inner binding. 

It was only years later, my innocence thinning, that I learned about the missing moments in-between. The span of time between dreams crushed and a promise fulfilled. 

You’ve been there too, haven’t you, my war-weary friend?  

Perhaps you sit there with me now. 

The time where hurt indifference blocks your vision to see beyond the raw now. The expanse of minutes when your soul just swallows gasps of empty air. You know that eventually you must stand, but the gravity in your heart will not allow it. So you sit - suffocated by comforting murmurs, shouting invisible screams.

For ever since the very first moment when God’s most beloved creation took hold of His Sovereign hand, humans have always questioned if somehow we missed a cue, somehow misunderstood, when we find ourselves waiting in disappointed silence before a God we are struggling to trust.

So today, between the blood-stained cross and the Resurrection, we pause in solidarity, suffering with Jesus’ followers across the span of centuries past. Here we rest, not sure what tomorrow will bring. 

But it is here, in this helpless state, that Jesus enters unseen and begins to prepare us for victory. 

He fills the pitcher of His Spirit and begins to slowly pour it over our brokenness, filling the cracks with strength, covering the pain with love, and wetting our parched throats just enough to speak His name.

It is here, our shaky legs are made steady. So rest, my hopeful friend, for at dawn’s first light, we have an empty tomb to run to.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” 

Psalm 34:18