Something Beautiful

I have never spent much time thinking about Holy Saturday. It is the ordinary day sandwiched between the cross of Good Friday and the empty tomb of Easter Sunday. Here it sits: ordinary, overlooked Saturday. There are no special church services. There are no celebrations. It is just here - the space in between. The space where Jesus was in the grave.  I realized this morning that this ordinary, sandwiched Saturday has a very important lesson to teach. It teaches us about waiting. This space on Saturday is the waiting space. It is the space for grief. I have a confession: I am a bad mourner. I crack jokes to break up tears, jokes that usually aren't funny and just lead to awkwardness. I try to move past grief. I don't want to be sad because the world tells me that sadness is wrong. If I'm not happy all the time then something is wrong with me. And let's face it, who really wants to be sad? Who wants to grieve? Who wants to lament?  A couple of years ago now, I was

Two years ago, March 9th was a Sunday. It was a beautiful, sunny morning sandwiched between two Sundays that were snowy and cold. I was ten days away from moving to Kansas, and I was planning to go home after church and eat leftover french onion soup by myself.  This particular Sunday was an "After Bite" Sunday at my church. This meant that they would pick several restaurants and everyone would go out to eat together. It was a way to engage in intentional community with the body of Christ. I want you to know that I believe in gathering around a table with people. Sitting down to eat a meal with friends, family, and strangers - who are just friends waiting to be made - is one of my favorite expressions of being the body of Christ.  When Jesus wanted to connect with people He sat down and ate a meal with them. On the night He was betrayed, He told His disciples that He had been eagerly longing to share this meal with them. Something special and beautiful happens when peop