There’s a saying in Western Oregon where I live: “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” This is especially apropos in early spring, when gloom and rain descend one minute, and sunshine prevails the next. Hail. Rain. Sun. Rain. Clouds. Repeat through March and into April. Darkness and light juxtaposed daily.
I’m writing on Good Friday, the darkest day imaginable for those first followers of Jesus. They see their friend tortured and put to death, then, in despair and fear, lock themselves into a room together and try to wrap their minds around the events of the previous few days. With their hearts and minds a tangled mess, they huddle to hash out their futures. What’s going to happen now?
Just hours earlier, Jesus had hosted a special supper just for them. They shared a meal, and as they sat around the table Jesus promised that he was going to be with them always. He gave them wine to drink and bread to eat—tangible reminders of his presence with them. In them.
Towards the end of their time together, Jesus wrapped a cloth around his waist and knelt to wash each disciple’s feet in turn. Peter objected: “Master, I should be the one washing your feet!”
“No,” Jesus said. “I do this for you so that you will be ready to do the same for others.” He was showing them how to respond to the Imago Dei—the image of God—in each person they met. Every time they offered hospitality or care for a neighbor, God would be there.
By the time you read this we’ll have moved past Good Friday and through Easter. The Light will have overcome the darkness, Life prevailing. Oregon’s spring weather will continue to fluctuate, but temperatures will get milder, the rains softer. I’ll go out to my flower beds and discover that the peonies I planted last year have sprouted and pushed their way up through the mulch. Life has been moving, growing in the darkness, hidden. Even when I couldn’t see God, God was there.
Continue the conversation in the comments, below!
I’m writing on Good Friday, the darkest day imaginable for those first followers of Jesus. They see their friend tortured and put to death, then, in despair and fear, lock themselves into a room together and try to wrap their minds around the events of the previous few days. With their hearts and minds a tangled mess, they huddle to hash out their futures. What’s going to happen now?
Just hours earlier, Jesus had hosted a special supper just for them. They shared a meal, and as they sat around the table Jesus promised that he was going to be with them always. He gave them wine to drink and bread to eat—tangible reminders of his presence with them. In them.
Towards the end of their time together, Jesus wrapped a cloth around his waist and knelt to wash each disciple’s feet in turn. Peter objected: “Master, I should be the one washing your feet!”
“No,” Jesus said. “I do this for you so that you will be ready to do the same for others.” He was showing them how to respond to the Imago Dei—the image of God—in each person they met. Every time they offered hospitality or care for a neighbor, God would be there.
By the time you read this we’ll have moved past Good Friday and through Easter. The Light will have overcome the darkness, Life prevailing. Oregon’s spring weather will continue to fluctuate, but temperatures will get milder, the rains softer. I’ll go out to my flower beds and discover that the peonies I planted last year have sprouted and pushed their way up through the mulch. Life has been moving, growing in the darkness, hidden. Even when I couldn’t see God, God was there.
Continue the conversation in the comments, below!
Paula J. HamptonPaula J. Hampton has devoted many years to supporting Christian education as an editor of books, Bible studies, and devotionals for Barclay Press. She practices self-care through quilting, reading, and baking. Paula is a member of the Eden Spiritual Care board. |  |
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