Good Friday, Birthday and No Longer Homeless

Holy WeekIt’s Holy Week.  A time, as you probably already know, is the most important week for Christians.  It is a time, as my Pastor said yesterday during service, that each part of the story from Psalm Sunday to Maunday Thursday, Good Friday and Easter all work together to embrace who Christ, and God, is for us.  A story that isn’t just about palms and whips waving through the air, but of a story
of freedom.  It is a story of turning the tables on institutionalized injustice, on lives lived in the darkness of shame, and of those in slavery of all kinds.

Holy Week is being blogged about on thousands of sites this week.  Why?  Because one man entering a town with the expectation of never leaving it, transcends time.  Christ is still alive, still dead, and still risen.

And in this dismantling of human time, our lives move forward.

Our son was born on Good Friday.  The day that Christ dragged the cross through the streets, was whipped, nailed, bled, laughed at and cried over, was the same day that our son’s and my struggles to bring him into the world ended with his first cries in an operating room.  It snowed that day.  A white angelic world liberated with drops of blood.  A death and a birth.  Both stories not yet done.  Both stories not yet fully revealed as my son grows and Christ has not yet finished.

And now, a young homeless couple has moved out of their van and into an apartment out in the country.  It has taken 6 months of waiting and working through the system – waiting lists, forms, local government workers, and reluctant landlords – to get them a stable place to sleep.  Once moved in things moved faster, with a quick post leading to almost everything they need to fill out the space.  A new life for them, finally.  But a story not done.  A story moved ahead while many are still lost in the process.

God is with us.  Christ is with us.  The Spirit is with us.  We are not alone on this journey.  A journey of darkness and light, a journey that is messy and unpredictable, a journey that is unfair, incomplete, and not done.

Holy Week is not done.  Two thousand years later we are still living out Easter.  We are living in that in-between time, but blessed to know that we are not alone.

Our son was not alone as he was pulled through the cut in my stomach and passed into the hands of nurses.  The couple was not alone as they spent their first night in a room without wheels, even if on the floor in darkness.  And you were not, and are not alone, as you live your life.









About SFriant

I live to walk with others on their journeys - because everyone needs to know that they are loved, that they matter, and that they are doing amazing things. I'm a lot like our two kids: obsessed with learning, and constantly creating.
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