The Dead Tree

In a field behind the house where my grandparents used to live, my Nana would take us to see a dead tree that was still standing.  It felt like an adventure, an exploration.  On pretty Spring days, two young girls with their grandmother, would venture into the great unknown to discover a treasure that no one knew about.  In reality, we probably walked no more than 50 yards from the end of their back porch to the foot of the tree.  When we reached our destination, we froze in mouth-opened awe.  (I wonder now how much time Nana was trying to "kill" with this great adventure.)  There it stood with a sense of self and uniqueness.  Its frailty unmatched by the surrounding greenery, its trunk wearing thin and the leaves browned and crackly.  The dead tree looked tired and worn.  Its branches pointed upward as if to say, "I've done all I can in this life, I have nothing left to give."  We looked on at it with such wonder.  What did it mean to us to be in the presence of something that was no longer alive, yet stood here in front of of our very eyes?  It was a mystery to us - this dead tree.  A mystery beyond our understanding that pulled us back again and again.  "Let's go see the dead tree!"  As if it were the only one of its kind.

And so each time we went, we paused in wonder and disbelief.  Unknowingly considering the connection between life and death.  Unaware of our burning desire to understand the mysteries that filled the world around us.

Mysteries and questions about life….about death….about resurrection…  that continue to call me out on pretty Spring days for an adventure, an exploration - a journey to find God.

Writing to God: Good Friday

Mark 15: 1-47
"Darkness over the Land"

Today's prayer is one of hopelessness and anguish.  All over the world today, Good Friday is more than just a horrible thing of the past - it is reality.  As we remember and mourn the death of Jesus, let us also remember and mourn the lost, the forgotten, the voiceless, the vulnerable, the lives that we know and the ones we will never know who have lost hope that this life, at its heart, is good.
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The darkness feels suffocating.  God, it is hard to breathe.  It is though all hope, all possibility, every potential for good was just sucked up in a vacuum of despair.

Jesus died and still children go hungry.
Jesus died and war did not cease.
Jesus died and the rules of love and respect tightened around the rules of the privileged and powerful.

Jesus breathed his last and when he did, thousands more were forgotten.  Prayers of hope no longer whispered in the morning.

Why, God?  What now?

Where is your kingdom when acts of violence dominate our world?
Where is your saving grace when all we see is news reports of destruction, hypocrisy, fear, injustice?

Jesus died and children go hungry.
Jesus died and animals are abused.
Jesus died and the kid at school is bullied.
Jesus died and the numbers on death row increase; the fear of dark streets at night follow us into daylight.

The experience of loss and death causes us to cry out to you, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken us?!"

Jesus.

Don't.  Breathe.  Your.  Last.

O, God, tear open our hearts and stay with your children today.

Weep with us as we collapse at the foot of the cross.  If we are there at all.

Amen.