Psalm 88: Stark, honest, raw. It joins voices of despair that span place and time. It gives permission to lament, and it carves a space for unresolved sorrow. It resists shallow niceties and bland platitudes.
The time between Good Friday and Easter Day is unresolved time. The Messiah is dead; the curtain is torn (but what does that mean?); God is silent. I wonder how many of us live in this unresolved, painful place, not just this weekend, but through much of the year. How many of us hang between darkness and resolution?
Here is a reflection for all of you who are holding on by your fingertips, as you plummet through this liminal space.
Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness?
An uncertain glance.
A silent tear.
Darkness rises, chokes and blinds.
It is finished,
And you launch into the unknown
Falling through the nothingness of what next?
Into the endless void of where now?
Fear sings her taunts
And Doubt dances on the place you used to stand:
What will catch you?
Who will save you?
In the land of forgetfulness
No memory sustains you
No story reminds you
No music restores you.
Going back is not an option:
That door has closed.
Beasts of regret and fires of what if? lie behind.
But you can go on.
Is there a glimmer in the darkness?
A seed planted but long forgotten?
A fresh shoot of – what?
And then you step forward
Because forward is the only way to go.
Hold on, weary one.
Cling to the echo of a promise you have never understood.
Remember the hope you once passed by.
Believe that beyond what you know, there is a more brilliant future dawning.
Then travel on.
It’s night time, but morning is coming.
By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.