Rocking Hinge
What Easter message will the doctor deliver? (refer: On Joyful Sorrow)
I sit with my eighty-eight-year-old mother in the doctor’s office waiting for the verdict. Her first chest X-ray showed a spot on her lung. The doctor’s read on the second is imminent. We teeter on a hinge between joy and sorrow.
Not too different from those seeking news of loved ones after Toronto’s deadly van attack on Monday. Was their family member one of the dozens mowed down by a hate-filled driver? Deliberately mounting the sidewalk he leaves a sweeping two kilometers trail of carnage. Perched on a rocking hinge between despair and hope the families scrabble for confirmation (refer: CBC report: ‘We don’t want to rush this…’)…
…Such a thin line.
A Thin Line
How surprisingly narrow the ledge between Good Friday sorrow and Easter morning joy.
And how incongruous on a day of destruction that spring freshness draws crowds to busy sidewalks, faces turning up soak in warmth long denied; the sun awakens joy and stirs hope. It is a good day.
In a windowless examination room the doctor looks up from the report on his computer monitor.
On a sun-soaked Yonge Street in Toronto the first responders arrive.
What heralds the next moments – Easter morning or Good Friday?
Both Sides of a Thin Line
Mary Magdalene stood at the cross and saw her Lord dead (Mathew 27:54-56). Mary Magdalene wept in the garden and saw her Lord alive (John 20:11-16, see also: On Joyful Sorrow).
Whichever way the door hinges open or close Jesus stands on both sides.
The Son shines in the middle of despair. It is a painfully good day.
To be continued…