Holy Saturday

Holy Saturday, April 11, 2020

2 Corinthians 4:7-18

Following my first funeral in 1982, this poem formed in my mind before I left the cemetery. I offer it here for Holy Saturday.

From a darkened stillness in the night,
     We are thrust into the current of life;
A current that sweeps around us,
     Over us, through us . . . against us.

It is a struggle, this strife, this fight.
     It is neither wrong nor right,
Against the current we fight lest it stifle us,
     Stop us, drown us . . . destroy us.

Then amidst the struggle, a voice, tender as a dove,
     Speaks: "Be still, and do not try
To resist, to fight, or wrest it free;
     Be still, be held, and know . . .


But to be still in the struggle is to give in,
     To let the current take us in.
And how is it even possible to be still
     When caught up in the current's will?

Ah, but Friends, it’s the current's will
     To hold you close and fast until
It brings you home to rest
     In death: a thought we so much detest.

In death, our stillness we now confess
     That in God's hands, by grace, we're blest.
For in the stillness of the sod
     We've but one hope left . . .


4 thoughts on “Holy Saturday

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