Did He not say light overcomes darkness?
Did he not call Himself the Light of the World,
sent to dispel sin’s crushing desolation?
Yet, yesterday, we watched helplessly as
a cruel instrument of torture
We huddle behind barred door, shaking with fear.
Are we next? We strain our ears for clatter of
hobnail boots on the street below,
We weep silently, lest someone hear.
Grief beyond imagination: How could this be,
our Master lying dead in a grave?
Proud night, will you never end?
We cannot see a way out of this city.
O, God. Why did You forsake this One,
Who gave us courage and hope?
O, Morning Star, if only You would shine again.
Light up my soul’s gloomy habitation.
Night creeps toward day and still we wait.
“Watch and pray,” I think He said.
For what? All sense of purpose lies dead with Him
inside that borrowed tomb.
What’s that noise? Soldiers’ relentless steps?
Shush, lest they hear and take us, too.
Copyright © Reflections from Dorothy's Ridge 2016. All rights reserved
At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid. 42 Because it was the Jewish day of Preparation and since the tomb was nearby,
they laid Jesus there.
Labels: Easter, Jesus