Musings: Notes From My Daybook

Lord,
Resurrection Day passes and Monday brings troubled people back into view. People like:
The woman who needs her electric power turned back on
The man in the restaurant whose facing heart surgery
The woman in Emory hospital who suffered a stroke last night
The mother looking for a job to support her children
The man losing a job because he cared enough to tell the truth

What does easter faith say to these persons--persons that I have talked to, cried with, and been silent in their suffering since this day began?

Sometimes the empty tomb seems--really empty.

What does easter faith have to say? It says that suffering and joblessness and powerlessness and the beeps and whirling noises of medical machinery are not the last word. Mondays do speak words--words that hurt and words that wound. But the last word is not the Monday word.

The last word is the Sunday word of grace. Yes, that's it. The easter word is a word of triumph and hope and finds its center in your grace. Grace that is unfolding, emerging; grace that nurtures the smallest little good thing and turns into some better. The resurrection is evidence of your powerful word of grace.

Someone needs to speak the Sunday word to a woman in a darkened apartment. Someone needs to speak that word to a man wondering about his mortality. Someone needs to sit by a hospital bed. Lord, someone needs to help some people find work to do.

Lord, who? Who will speak the Sunday word on Monday?