Monday, July 6, 2015

Into Your Hands

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was beginning. The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment. Luke 23:44-56a 
Into Your Hands
There are days when we struggle on our own
vainly trying to right the ship and set sail again
other days when defeat and betrayal have won
and we give it all up to our Father in heaven.

These are the days we must give up and let go
tarrying not for there is no more to do
we must wait upon the resurrection breath of God
the reviving spirit making us alive again.

Too often we hold on wrestling with dead dreams
we don't rest on the Sabbath and dig in deeper
even when we are nailed in place and unmoveable
we try to hold on tight to what is no more.

These are the days of deep sabbath rest
when we move as if dead and sleep dreamlessly
we feed ourselves by hand like small children
and return again to our deep sleeping berths.

The fire has been lit for justice and love
God is active and working in our midst
the more we fight the birth pains and the changes
the less we will see of the promised land.

These are the days for watching and waiting
for prayer and sleep and tender songs sung
these days we await the new life that dances
just on the far edges of our dreams.

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