Reflection

We are well into the season of Lent, but you wouldn't know it looking at my life. Nothing foregone and no penance made. No new Easter dress in the closet, tags dangling, and (gasp!) even an "Alleluia!" cried at the end of a difficult day. Perhaps worst of all (for my Lutheran guilt-meter, anyway) I haven't attended a one of our church's midweek Lenten services. But, with dinner in the oven and a found pause, this week I finally made the two minute walk to our church for vespers.

Most parishioners were finishing a soup supper in the narthex, giving me the chance to steal a few moments of solitude in the sanctuary. Stained glass windows yawned open to the warm evening, and the unadorned altar, low light and simple silence gave me a chance to calm my pace and mind.

The pastor, a guest preacher, spoke on the story of Lazarus' death and the words said and action taken by Jesus as his friends Mary and Martha grieved their loss. When Martha faithfully confirms that she knows her brother will rise again at the resurrection, Jesus says the well-known words "I am the resurrection and the life; those who believe in me, though they die, yet shall live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die." The preacher affirmed that these words are spoken in the present, not the past or the future, and the hope and promise of the resurrection is living and available for each of us, today.

He also suggested that true faith arises not in the absence of doubt but rather in its presence. He stressed that to be a person of faith, one is by nature also a person of doubt, but this doesn't diminish us; reassuring words indeed. My summation doesn't do justice to his words, but his strong and uplifting message remained with me that evening and still today.

After a few niceties and greetings, I set out for home in the darkened, cooler night, a benevolent moon above and a right spirit within.