Reflections on Holy Week

The moon shines brightly in the night sky and I sit in awe.  All week my mind has been swirling with words, phrases, and thoughts about light and darkness.

The first recorded words of God were, "Let there be light.".  Jesus said that he, himself, is "the light of the world". 

And my brain turns flips and my soul flutters to think that this One who is light would choose darkness.

That He who is light would choose to confine himself to the darkness of a fragile woman's womb.  When most babies leave the darkness of the womb and cry into the light of the world, by some miracle that I'll never fully comprehend with my finite mind, this babe left the darkness of the womb and brought light into the world.  His first cries resounded in a world that had not heard the voice of God for hundreds of years. 

Then, as He grew, He illuminated the darkness with the full spectrum of His being.  He brought understanding where there had been confusion.  He opened the eyes of the blind.  And like the light of an x-ray He revealed the things that were broken within and offered healing. 

This light, this amazing, unwavering, life-giving, world-changing, light spread as He said, "you are the light of the world" and "you may become children of light".

I can hardly believe it is true and I marvel at the grace lavished upon me as I know well my own darkness.

And yet, He who is light, chose again darkness for my sake...for our sakes...for His glory.  He suffered, and died, and went to the darkness of the tomb.  But the story doesn't end there.  Because the dark places are just waiting for the Light to shine and so after three days, He rose!  He lived again!

So I remember, as I go through my days, that shadows do no exist where there is no light.  When troubles come, when darkness creeps close, I know that there is Light.  By some great miracle, I can be in this light, and this light can be in me and the burden of the most difficult day is somehow easier, lighter.

For now we see only a reflection...

I stood knee-deep in the water with waves crashing rhythmically behind me, my belly swollen with a child that I'll meet within weeks.

My other three stood, still for a moment after outrunning sea foam "lava". They were in a semicircle, looking down at some object in the sand, and as the wave that had chased them moved back out to sea I saw the lovely glimmer of a reflection that met their toes in the sand.

It was brief. So brief that I almost missed the sight completely. Then it was gone.

They came running back toward me, the water that was near my knees retreating closer to my ankles, and instead of a fuzzy reflection on wet sand, I had three elated children--laughing, talking, squealing, smelling of sunscreen and tasting like saltwater kisses. Cool wet hands grabbing for mine and telling me to "get ready! Another one is coming!"

And I thought of the words of the Apostle Paul:
"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12

There, on the edge of a continent with toes in the Atlantic, feeling awkward in my maternity swimsuit, I had a holy moment. There is goodness in this life and these experiences, but they don't compare to what has been promised for the future.