Easter dirt

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free 

God of freedom, God who sets us free,
Why does freedom have to be so complicated?
Why does truth have to feel so wrong

when we were made to love?

God, you are love, so wherever there is love,
there you are.

I found love 
in the wrong place
but still it was You
still it was good
still it felt good

and I know that each part of me is 
good 
each part of me - even the shadowy parts, 
the parts that seem to exist only to wreck me
the parts I didn’t ask for and would like to forget.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free

Good, nourishing soil is only made in the darkness
where worms and maggots and all kinds of gross things wriggle around
and it is hot and smelly and uncomfortable down here

and I would much rather stick my head back up into the light
where things make sense and flowers bloom and 
where the people walk around oblivious to my grief

but let me be brave like Mary Magdalene
who stood at the tomb 
when everyone else ran 

actually, she wasn’t brave - she was stubborn,
feet planted right in the dirt of her grief, 
willing to witness the pain and not turn away,
tired and weary like me.

Let me believe too 
that maybe - just maybe -
this tomb could be empty -

It is for freedom that Christ has set you free

- and maybe the linen wrappings will be neatly folded
or maybe not

- and maybe the resurrected Christ will be hard to recognize
more like a gardener than a savior

a gardener who will look at the dirt I’ve made out of my life and say -
it is good.

Photo by paul mocan on Unsplash