I almost did not write today. There is a huge part of Saturday that is about the silence. The darkness needs to sink in. We need to have no answers. That needs to be the journey of the day. However, my friends, this particular season in our world seems like a never-ending Saturday of Holy Week, so I think we need to tune in today. We need to set our intention on what could, and can, and may be, when we chose to look for a new resurrection.
I have a bit of confession to make. This lenten season has been a train wreck of sorts in my spiritual journey. The momentum has been building for years, but the impact occurred in a very real way when I begin to step into my annual pilgrimage with the added invitation to reexamine my priorities in light of a global pandemic. In some bizarre and mysterious way, my soul needed permission to dig. I needed the ability to take off the edit button of my normal “routine” approach to faith. There is nothing like the feelings of grief and anger and loss and the aching of a stoppage of life to allow us to look long and hard at the path of connection.
I have allowed myself to say things like does this matter? Can I really connect with this? Is there beauty in this truth? Am I afraid to look at this one aspect of this story because if I do then it all unravels? Yes. The answers to these questions are all ‘yes’. And I have processed and written about this more in the past 3 weeks than I ever have in my life. This has been a season of watching the waves of awareness and questions come over me and go out with the tide of grief and doubt. This forced season of social distancing has refused to let me run from my heart and thoughts. And this is freeing me to surrender.
I have spent the last few weeks prioritizing my questions. One of my most important questions has been, “Who are my teachers?” I have let go of the need to have teachers give me answers. I have based so much of my understanding of the Divine on a regurgitation of other teacher’s favorite foods. This system has failed me in the quiet of my heart, because when I reach the moments of absolute hunger, what other people order as a main course will never satisfy my soul. I must be brave enough to seek the beauty of the feast for myself. Without the willingness to seek out and approach connection without the baggage of shame and should’s, I have no connection to the work of my growth. There is no way of placing God in a box. Actually, I have finally admitted that there is no box. And that is wonderfully and terrifyingly freeing.
I find myself on this Saturday sitting in the waiting. And while resurrection will look very different this Easter, I am thankful. There is nothing about my journey that can be divorced from the promise of new life. Even on the days when I don’t feel new. Even on the days when the story of hope seems so distant that it hurts. What I KNOW, really know, is that out of great pain comes great growth. That is the comfort of this long season of Saturdays.
I discovered a new Podcast last night that was a gift. A warm virtual hug for someone that wants no one to touch her in everyday life and yet now misses the physical connection of humanity. For those that need a soothing voice of meditation and calm today, I highly recommend Turning to the Mystics. I’ll close with a thought that is paraphrased from the Holy Week Mediation:
This pandemic has the ability to recalibrate our spiritual priorities and assumptions and rebirth a more generous clarity. -James Finley
Friends, may we seek the light of tomorrow with all of our being.
May we know that hope does not always come in a neat and clean package.
May we look beyond the expected path for the miracle of resurrection.
Lacy, grateful for these posts of yours.
Pingback: What If: I Can’t Ever Go Back to Church? | The View From the Bathroom Floor
Pingback: Advent: 2020 | The View From the Bathroom Floor