Mortals, born of woman,
are of few days and full of trouble.
They spring up like flowers and wither away;
like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.
Do you fix your eye on them?
If someone dies, will they live again?
All the days of my hard service
I will wait for my renewal to come.
You will call and I will answer you;
Job 14: 1-3, 14-15
I said to my mind, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; yet there is faith
But the faith and the hope and the love are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.
~T. S. Eliot, from “East Coker” The Four Quartets
after all had gone so wrong
before all will go so right,
puts us between the rock
and the hard place:
all hope, love and faith is squeezed from us.
Today we are flattened,
dried like chaff,
ground to pulp,
our destiny with death sealed.
We lie still
as sprinkled spices
try to delay inevitable decay,
wrapped up tight,
stone cold and futile.
A rock placed
so we are caught in between-
our bodies like His-
cut off and left behind.
We cannot know what is to come
in the dawn tomorrow
the stone lifted and rolled,
the separation bridged,
darkness overwhelmed by light,
the crushed and broken rising to dance,
from the waiting stillness He stirs
finding death emptied,
During this Lenten season, I will be drawing inspiration from the new devotional collection edited by Sarah Arthur —Between Midnight and Dawn