Today We Do Not Walk…We Rest

Thank you for walking with me for the last six days.  Your words, our experiences together on this walk has deepened my love and understanding of this week in history.  Thank you.

Shabbat Shalom

Today we gather in peace on the Sabbath.

It would have been a quiet day.  Perhaps eerily so on this particular observance.

All food prepared and tasks completed. Today Jesus, His disciples, close friends and their entire community would have rested.

But Jesus wasn’t here.  He was in a borrowed tomb of a friend.  He was close but not close enough.

He should be here blessing the bread.  Reclining at the table and laughing at the children who have such a hard time being still, even on the Sabbath.  Each one in His presence would have laid down the cares of the last six days and found peace deeply abiding in their souls.

But Jesus wasn’t here.  He was wrapped in a fine, clean linen cloth.  He was close but not close enough.

He should be here telling stories.  The air around us should be tangible so that we can hear His voice.

But Jesus wasn’t here.  He was lying on a shelf cut into the stone in a hillside garden silent.  He was close but not close enough.

He should be here so that we could rest.  He was beautiful when He rested.  His breath would slow on the Sabbath and those around Him breathed in peace.  The Earth would sigh at the rising and falling of His chest.  Ah, Shalom.

But Jesus wasn’t here.  He was in a tomb cut into the rock with a large stone rolled in front of it with a Roman seal.  He was close but not close enough.

So shalom, peace, would not come easily on this Shabbat.  This Sabbath was wrought with gut-wrenching grief that had to be tamed in order to just breathe.  But breathe they must because Sunday is coming.  When the morning rays touch the hills they would be there.  Ready.  Ready to honor their Beloved by preparing His body properly, tenderly and with tears.

And Jesus would be there…

Thank you for seeking shalom with me today, a place of rest.  May the competing demands on you this day be laid waste to the promise of peace.

Sunday’s coming.

Grace & Shalom,

Laura Lea