Holy Saturday

From my journal, dated last year on Holy Saturday:

Holy Saturday. The time-between-times. After we have died, and before we are resurrected. This is where we live. This is where the church lives, her sanctification begun but not complete. The kingdom of God is “already, but not yet.” This is the pause, the inhalation before the final trumpet blast. Strange that this is where we live – in the stillness, in the moment of anticipation. In the desert of Sinai, after our freedom from slavery but before the consummation of the promised land. With history moving so rapidly about us, it is easy to forget the anticipation. It is easy to see the death, and hard to see the resurrection. Easy to look back, and hard to look forward. Easy to see defeat, and hard to see the Victory. But that is what we must do: look unto Jesus, not only the author but also the finisher of our faith. Who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. We too endure Good Friday for the sake of Easter.

Lord, may your kingdom come: in full as it is in part, on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

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