Easter and The Sufferings of this Present Time

1:30 AM, a silent stillness engulfs the world. 

It's transitioned from Holy Saturday to Easter Sunday.  Jesus would be finishing up his mission to Hades, where he preached the Gospel to those who were captive among the dead, there.  "The Harrowing of Hell" is what it has been called.  Not talked about much though it is in our Apostles' Creed.  The basic belief is that Christ, in between the time he died on the cross and was raised from the dead, descended to the place of the dead and shared the Good News with them.  Always an opportunity for Grace.

Meanwhile, on this side of death we await Easter morning.

Romans 8, a great Easter text, is speaking to me this morning:

18 I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; 20 for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

 The sufferings of this present time.  It is the nature of suffering that though it is always somewhat transient, it seems in the moment to be almost eternal.  "Groaning in labor pains. . ."  What a perfect image of suffering.  Four times Karla went through labor.  From the first braxton hicks contractions through the final push it was always, an extended time.  In that moment, the suffering seemed as though it would never stop.  In hindsight, while compared with the life we've shared since then with our children, the suffering is rightfully seen as just a momentary affliction. 

I've been away from this blog.  I gave up writing this particular blog as I was busy with my Lenten preparations and needed the time to write my second sermon, each week. 

But there has been another factor in play.  I am well.  Well except for the fact that it is 1:30 in the morning and I'm up and at it writing.  Aside from that. . .

 we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

Easter.  Its about the redemption of our bodies.  The healing of our souls.  And not only us, but the whole creation.  Earth's own scars will heal.  I write those words and imagine the Berkeley Pit in Butte.  Healed.

There is no lack of images portraying the suffering and death of Christ.  His glorious resurrection and the redeemed body of the Risen Lord have escaped our imagination and representation. 

We've seen death and know its appearance.

We have not seen resurrection.

Perhaps that is what makes hope so difficult for those who suffer.  The sufferings of the present time are so real.  We understand that experience, as horrific as can be.  And yet while we dwell within our suffering, we have no concept of what resurrection and healing truly means because we have not yet experienced that.

Yet the early light creeps up over the horizon this Easter morning.  We are tickled by hope. 

I am aware that my life has likely entered the third trimester. The burdens will continue to increase as the time grows nearer.  But what is yet to come?  What does birth hold for us.  What will the redemption of our bodies look like?

 I write these words from the very spot my father died.  I have a sense he didn't look back. 

Grief or Hope.  That seems to be the only two possibilities with which to mark the passing of each day of our lives.  Grief reigns if we are consumed with a sense of the finality of death, and life's end.  Hope reigns when we believe the best is yet to come. 

And so I declare, this early morning before the light dissipates the darkness:

Christ is Risen!

He is Risen, Indeed!

Alleluia! 

Yes, Bishop, I'm a prime example.

My Bishop recently wrote an article about self care, specifically taking time off. I'm a prime example. Clergy don't do a good job of this, often tending to others and neglecting themselves.  And for some of us, it's even more complicated.

I'm up this morning too early.  I woke up a few times, and finally got up at about 1:15.  I look for reasons for this.  Taking pseudoephedrine.  I've been battling a cold, or allergies, and have taken pseudoephedrine.  That is enough to do it.  I am also a Seahawks fan and was following the Russell Wilson contract situation.  They reached an agreement late last night.  I found myself checking on the progress every time I woke up.  And part of it is just plain insomnia that continues to plague me.  Self care and taking time off.  Just sleeping would be a good start.

I was bad at this when I was full time in the ministry.  When I went on disability I had accumulated a full three months of unused vacation time.  Much of this accrued during the building of Luther Park.  I just didn't take time off.

My lesson?  Eventually you will.  If being disabled and off work for a couple of years is what you want, just keep up with that schedule.  It caught up with me.

My life now has not made it any easier.  I work a forty hour week at the cabinet shop, and then add twenty hours at church.  Add to that the twelve hours a week I spend commuting And there is not a lot of time for self care.  I need to use my vacation at church, but that puts a burden on them that I tend to avoid.  But mainly, I only get a week off per year from the cabinet shop.  That restricts me.  For my coworkers, this is not so bad as they work four tens, and have a three day weekend.  Not me.  I am able to take Friday afternoons and Saturdays off, and I do so religiously. 

I fear that there is not an easy solution for the next few years until retirement.  So yes, Bishop Kristen, I hear you.  I just don't see an easy solution.

Otherwise, I'm doing well.  Overworked, but well.