Uncertainty and I are well-acquainted. I am intimately aware of disappointment, and I know how it feels to wait for answers that only muddle the situation further.
I am still waiting... and now as the whole world is waiting, all attempts at progress are paused.
It is easy to excuse our feelings of disappointment.
It was too early to tell, so my hopes weren't built up so much.
We have x,y, and z other options.
At least we didn't...
At least we weren't...
The cross is critical to the narrative that grants us life and hope. It's the nail pierced hands and feet that issued us our redemption. An empty tomb is not spectacular, unless formerly occupied by a lifeless body. His death lasted for three days. For three days, the long-awaited Savior was dead.
He did not denigrate the painful cost of our celestial reunion, and He did not immediately rise.
For three days, death and grief replaced a world of hope and expectation.
Pain is a critical part of God's narrative. It presages new life. When we admit our ache, we invite others to do the same, and while the pain may remain for a time, I have found that hope resides in our collective ache.
I have found so much comfort in the words of a dear friend who is also a part of the ten percent- the women who "have difficulty becoming and staying pregnant." As I tried to excuse my pain as somehow less valid, she stopped me with these words--
Have grace for the things that you are not right now.
Two months ago I wrote those words on the whiteboard in my office at church.
In the face of disappointment... In the face of uncertainty...
Allow space for the grief
Admit the ache
And Have grace for the things that you are not right now.
This is not how the narrative ends, but it is important right now.
After two days, he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence. -Hosea 6:2
Have grace for the things that you are not right now.
