18 Nov 2010
Only Love
There was only pain.
It was not just the nails, it was everything:
the splinters, the struggle to breathe, the thirst,
the blood that tickled as it trickled down his face,
and his nailed-down hands couldn’t wipe it away.
There was only pain:
no more hope, no vision, no God.
He was alone, with only the company
of a million million hearts in sorrow,
together all alone and united
with him in his isolation.
And the blood tickled as it trickled down his neck.
But when he woke there was no more pain;
there was only love.
He gingerly fingered the scars on his hands,
and there was only love.
He took the blood-stained, perfumed linens off,
folded them carefully, found a new robe at his feet.
The stone rolled away
and morning light flooded gently in.
He hesitated for a minute.
The world understood pain.
Would the world understand love?
He took a deep breath
and stepped out of the tomb.
In any sort of writing, the easy way to make it pack a real emotional punch is to be all dark and edgy and full of pain. But the whole point of the resurrection is that the message we have to share is now one of joy and love, not a message of fear or guilt or sorrow. Sometimes that message is harder to speak because it is not a message that the world can relate to. But it’s the heart of the Good News, and it needs to be spoken.