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 . . . I AM GOD! 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 . . . LET GOD BE GOD!