in-between

I’ve wandered through the events of Holy Week. Behind closed doors, sheltered-in-place, we washed feet and joined in communion. We sat at the foot of the cross as we listened quietly to the story. We sang, and we were silent. Now it is the day in-between. The liminal space after dreams are lost and before new ones have risen. 
These days of shelter-in-place feel reminiscent of what the followers of Jesus experienced. They were afraid of what was happening outside. They were grieving the death of a friend, the loss of their dream for freedom. Huddled behind locked doors for safety, they could not image the hope that awaited them.

I’ve spent several hours today wondering what to share with you. Praying for…something. But friends, I don’t know what to say. Not today. So I just share with you my honest self, caught in the liminal space. The space in-between what has been and what is yet to rise. 

 Alone by my window, darkness descends in hovering clouds and engulf my room in even more seclusion. Yet, I am not alone. I sit quietly with you, wondering what you are experiencing in this time in-between? What dreams or hopes or expectations must you let go (let die) so that new life may rise? This after all is the pattern Jesus set forth….not as much for an after-life as a life-after letting go of ourselves and finding ourselves rise in love and common ground with others. 

 This day in-between demands the courage of love to stay present The courage to lean into the pain and rely on community. The courage to wait, without being able to predict when resurrection will happen, but knowing it will. I hold with you the words of Jürgen Moltmann, “the power of hope [is faith] in every end a new beginning lies hidden.” 
In this liminal space, I’ll sit with you in silence, in faith, in the power of hope. 

Thank you for being with me.