Nothing seems to be happening.
I've been exercising for a few weeks, watching what I eat, and I don't see any changes.
I've been going to AA for days now, and I still want a drink. I thought it would be different by now.
He's been gone for months, yet I still expect to see him walk through the door and throw his coat into the corner every night. When will the pain of grief stop?
This job search is going nowhere fast. Interview after interview...yet nothing.
I planted those seeds weeks ago. It still just looks like a plot of dirt.
That time of waiting.
Quite honestly, we humans suck at waiting. We want it now, now, now!
And today, Holy Saturday, we wait. All of creation waits. Christ has died. Our wounds are fresh, our days go forward edged in numbness, and we are tired of waiting.
But underneath the layers of fat, dirt, grief, pain, ennui, life is stirring. At the very core of creation, God is living and moving and transforming. Transformation, it seems, happens at the very core first. Deep within us, and happens before we can even feel the transforming healing and hope of God happening. Trust the slow work of God, even when the work will still take a while to reach the surface.
And then the deep light that never truly faded finds a crack, a wound, a break within our selves and souls.
And it bursts forth.
Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels!
Rejoice, the old is falling away!
Rejoice, God is still living and moving.
Can you feel it? Can you feel it within your very soul? If not, keep on. You will. God will find a way. Somehow, someway, in a way that will likely be surprising, mysterious, and even uncomfortable.
Because resurrection isn't just a story, a day we celebrate in the Church year with hymns and prayers and flowers. Resurrection is real. Amen.