Trembling on the brink : A devotion for Easter
(This Easter devotion is being published all in one go. Happy Easter!)
Trembling on the brink of life and death, the last breath ebbs away, a sigh of loss so heavy it cracks the earth, and darkness slams shut on all who were looking in love and sorrow, till the last. Now, only crushing weight of despair remains; all else is lost.
Trembling on the brink of life and death, looking in, not daring to enter, an empty tomb means desecration not hope. Running away in fear, to tell, to seek help, leads running friends to also come and see, and slowly entering, to understand the emptiness, but not to understand.
Trembling on the brink of death and life, what can be thought, for being dead leaves less room than a grave, and none for thinking or feeling anything? Yet somehow, one moment there was void, and next there was consciousness. Did he think, “Ah yes, as I always knew”, or, in shock, gasping for a first new breath, did he grope in the dark for something to hold onto?
Trembling on the brink of death and life, he must have left, into the light, abandoning the grave, yet composed enough to wrap up that napkin separately by itself – the one, that coming to, had obscured his sight, and covered his mouth and nose, wrapped around his head, as it was. Where was he those first few hours? What did he do? What do you do when once you were dead and are now alive? Though it is all very peculiar, and the accounts don’t make clear sense. Is he still in time and space like us, for he can still be seen and touched? Or is he simply present when and where he wishes now? There is a strong scent of him being in between in these days – not trembling between death and life, but between humanity and divinity. Knowing he will be one with the Father, yet still there are things to do with us, for us.
Trembling on the brink of death and life, his friends are confused, puzzled, disbelieving. They hear messages, but they are afraid. It cannot be true, so they do not accept it. Till she hears her name called. And suddenly the truth that could not be recognised is embraced, as she embraces him. Till he breaks the bread and the penny drops. “The penny drops!”. What an understatement for the astounding revelation that blows their minds away. But that was it, in a moment they step over the threshold from not seeing, to seeing, from having no clue to understanding it all, from grief to joy, from despair to hope. No longer trembling on the brink, they enter life; they choose life. Till, still huddling in fear behind locked doors, he is there with them, in the midst of them, saying, “Peace be with you”. And, when empowered, they will throw open the doors and burst onto the streets to declare their faith: “He is risen!”. But even then, there was one left behind, left out. Tormented for a week, surrounded by rejoicing, but not giving in. Till he was invited to touch the scars. But to him was given the ultimate message, the truth to cap all truths: “My Lord and my God!”.
Trembling on the brink of life and death, death and life, we hear the story. A good story? A ridiculous story? A story? Confused and puzzled and disbelieving, it cannot be true. Do we want it to be true? But just wanting it, isn’t enough. It must be true for me to stop trembling. It is too late for me to touch your scars – that in-between time is over. He is now fully once again with the Father – yet somehow never losing hold of us – or so they say. Please, can the penny drop for me? I want to understand, for it to make sense. I want the hurricane to clean out my mind, for new life to flood in. Though, it was never a hurricane that carried anyone over the threshold; it really was, is, just a moment of revelation – a little light going on in the mind, that expands in a “Big Bang” moment to complete clarity to the furthest horizons, to the deepest depths, to the highest heights – to the inmost place where only I can go – unless he joins me. Trembling on the brink of death and life, I wait for you to call my name.
Spiritual Devotion 