Ending the Lenten Wait; Bringing Alleluia Back
A couple of years ago I wrote about how some cannot bring Alleluia back after it’s Lenten absence.
Lent teaches us the meaning of patience, of waiting. It’s something that I’ve never learned very well.
But this Lenten season has brought grief and waiting to a new meaning. Someone has exited my life, seemingly never to return. At some point, I knew it was going to happen. Maybe I knew all along. I believe every season has its place in our lives, every person a place, a season of their own.
I’m still, as I said before, a Doubting Thomas. “I need to place my fingers in the flesh of the risen Christ before I can sing my Alleluias again. I waver between that feeling of great doubt and one of great faith when I see so many around me suffering. Knowing that God is here for me and has raised me above so much and while I never doubt his love for me- I cannot tell someone else they should not. What does that make me?”
I still have doubts. The end of Lent does not bring the end of my season of waiting. But it does happen to bring about some new people, some new ventures, and work changes. Knowing that whenever one thing takes an exit, the exit creates the space for someething else to enter. The chance to grow and mature and come even more into my own. Grace under fire brings about a Phoenix of greater strength.
This particular Easter will bring visits not just with family that I have known for years, but also with newly found family- thanks to the help of Ancestry.com and some Internet sleuthing. New people have entered into my life.
However I’m still thinking of those who lost loved ones at the hands of others. Of it being twenty years after Columbine, and yet our world still hasn’t learned. The children of that day have borne children of their own, still living with the nightmare that was bestowed upon them. What do they say to themselves with every passing headline?
My faith isn’t just rooted in Christ, but in a greater need for the good of others. For just being a damn decent person. For seeing injustice in front of me and using my voice to call it out.
Tomorrow I will sing Alleluia again after its long absence. Alleluia, an expression of praise from the original Hebrew word for it. We can praise Christ, we can praise good words, we can praise the goodness of love that abounds in and around us. But that also means sitting in the grief. Acknowledging the darkness. Holding out a hand to someone when they are in it and telling them that you are there for them, both now and when they have the bravery to venture out.
My own grief is aiding by my faith in a loving God and by the love of my children. No matter who may choose to exit my life, I will always have them.
We live in a world where people are bad, where people hurt others- even by accident, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try to stop it. The love of Christ I believe is an actionable one, one that we can use to help others. To make our world a better altar for the One who gave His life for ours. Let’s live it in a way to honor that sacrifice.
Love to all y’all,
Molly
