Staying in our caves

Dear God, this is Kelley.

Some of my darkness is so familiar, Lord, I don’t think I throw my whole weight toward walking out of it. Your grace is there! It’s staring me in the face. “Come on!” it’s saying! And I’m standing here, one foot stuck in what’s familiar — doubt, disability, fear, stagnation — and the other on ground that’s radically new — enlightenment, ability, hope, trust!

We have to choose these things, this enlightenment, ability, hope, and trust. They are not automatic. Yes, You hand them to us, but we have to make the effort to put them on. We have to make the effort to put them into practice. “Oh, no!” we can say, noticing we’re operating out of the old doubt and cynicism. “I can operate out of what Jesus is handing me — hope! ability!”

This is what Easter gives us. It isn’t just You rising, and it isn’t solely pointing at the next world. Easter is about NOW. We are able to rise. We are enabled.

Reflection

In what ways do you choose to stay in your darkness?

Prayer

Okay, Jesus. I’m here, and I notice, yes, I’m in the tomb, with its thick walls and its darkness. It feels safe, but I know it’s not. I have all the ugly parts of myself in here, the ones abuse began, and I nurtured — fear of trying, suspicion of everyone, taking everything too personally, anger, scoffing at hope. Help me to see You are not in here. You are out there, and I can join You. May I use the grace You offer to come on out. Amen.