The promise of the gospel is that God is with us, even and especially, in the feelings we do not want to face nor know how to deal with. In our grieving and loss, our waiting and anger, in the places where we can only feel our way through - right there, is where Christ meets us.

Matthew’s version of the Resurrection of Jesus begins with an earthquake. After which an angel who looks like lightning with clothes white as snow, comes winging down from heaven, rolls back the stone, and casually sits on it. The guards around the tomb, quite sensibly, pass out cold. And the angel says to the women, “do not be afraid”.

Perhaps we need this foretaste of what is to come-Jesus doing for his friend what God will do for him. We need this hint of the assurance that there is a power loose in the universe which is stronger than death, stronger even than our fear of death. A power that is able to call us out of all the stinking tombs of our lives, all our fears, griefs, and deaths.

In Jesus’ time, blindness wasn’t just a vulnerability. It was a sign of sinfulness. So, who sinned?, the disciples ask. Which is another way of asking, Whose fault is it? 

We use the word “journey” a lot in church, and I worry we use it in a way that makes it seem like it’s not a word for everyday life. The kind of church-speak that makes us call a cup a chalice and a napkin a paten; not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that tries to signal that something special is happening. But sometimes that’s how words lose their meaning. Because they feel too far away from or even irrelevant to our own lives. 

I bet there are many of us who might feel a little bit worn out by too much reality. We are being bombarded by a seemingly new reality in which “facts” are distorted or ignored, what is real is presented as fake and vice-versa, and our various forms of media seem to present us with at least one catastrophic event on a daily basis.   

We know our racist history. It’s included on our website, because we know it’s important to recognize that churches not only allowed our country to be built on slavery, but that we were active participants. 

Waiting, patience, is something we, as a culture, seem to struggle with. Our lives are increasingly built around
instant gratification and we glorify efficiency.

There are tensions within us. And we do not like tension. That makes sense. Tension sucks. Tension in your neck. In your relationships. In our world. We can only handle so much before we need relief. Take a deep breath in and hold it for five full seconds. Exhale it out - tension and release. We need both. This isn’t weakness. Part of our imago dei - part of God’s image in us - is our desire for resolution, our longing for reconciliation. 

If we truly want to honor Dr. King, we cannot continue to let years roll on saying I have a dream because we refuse to wake up. We need to wake up and get on with Dr. King’s agenda of civil rights, of tackling poverty and an economic system that is wildly inequitable, of ensuring that all children have access to a good education, an agenda of peace in the face of our thirst for war, an agenda of breaking down walls and barriers.  An agenda with radical notions of fairness and inclusion that requires us to name and protest injustice wherever it exists and whatever the cost, but especially in this nation right now.