Hope Saturday

But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Cor. 15:54-57 

There is this photo - of us - and children - and students from all over playing a game of hay-bale tag during a quick stop during a spring break road trip. 

And it makes me smile.

Because I have photos like this from my childhood.

And from two years ago with students at Thanksgiving.

And the sun is shining.

It also rises.

Each and every day

For this we do not worry, and because of this we live.

And today we celebrated Good Friday. 

Each in our own ways.

With silent alone time, Bible studies, planting a garden, and a large Easter Egg hunt.

We celebrate a “day named wrong” - because, Lucy says, “How can it be GOOD if Jesus dies?”

And Jude knows. In his head still. Maybe only. “Because it was good for us.” “So that we live.”

And we do.

Tomorrow I wake on “Holy Saturday.”

My spiritual groundhogs day really.

This day where “It is finished” - forgiven, atoned.

But “not yet” arisen in new life. Complete.

Today there is still Al-Shabaab bringing tears to my home, 1/2 a world a way.

4 funerals this week. Others sick in bed. treatments. coughs. Exhaustion. 

Flowers and memories scattered - beautiful and broken

There are still arguments in my home - selfish desires raised like guns.

We all still aim. Take fire. In fear.  Of the unknown, unwanted.

Still self-protective.

Still in the dark.

"Most to be pitied if this hope is in vain"

But we know what tomorrow holds.

The Son also rises.

Sure as I can sleep tonight in calm knowing to be awoken in the morning, 

this is the sureness of the completion - celebrated today, tomorrow, and not yet.

And this is Easter.

We will all stand together again in that early hour - awaiting the sunshine 

Every age

Any nation

Nothing in common but the finishing that has come and the finishing awaited

And the hope this brings

And so on these Saturdays… this string of endless Saturdays

We jump together, laugh together, rejoice together

On unsure footing and seeming senseless wondering - almost caught

with gaps greater than we can bear but always a hand to pull us up

We wait together - knowing

The Son shall come

So perhaps more than Holy Saturday - 

it is Hope Saturday

every day

And if this joy is contained - amidst the curse... then how much greater the unimagined joy there after?

Where sin does not corrupt and thieves do not break in and steal.