God is dead. And with him, the dreams he has sown in my heart.
I don’t say that as a platitude. There are dreams God has put in my heart that lie dead and cold right now. And there are God-given dreams that have died behind every door on my street. And I don’t mean that as a platitude, either.
And we do our neighbours a disservice if we rush from Good Friday to Easter Sunday – if we can’t acknowledge death without immediately qualifying it with resurrection. Yes, God can raise the dreams he has sown in my heart; indeed, those dreams can’t grow and bear fruit unless they first die. And yes, this is true for my neighbours, too. But the deaths are real, and need to be taken seriously, not made light of. God has been there. And that choice to identify with us is incredibly powerful.
So why should we be afraid to let God work in the space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday – between death and resurrection – today, and not just 2000 years ago?
Holy Week , Holy Saturday , god is dead