“Where you there when they crucified my Lord?”
All the atoms that momentarily make up my body were here and there on this shaken, darkened earth that very afternoon when my Lord was crucified. But more than that, before I was born, I was already known by the God and Son unbound by time. Yes, I was there.
Where you there when they nailed him to the tree?”
My failures to heed God’s voice heard the pounding nails. My hiding from God held me watching from nearby hills, yet my hurtful retaliations held the smashing hammer. My judgment of others quipped theories at why he could not save himself, but my fear of grace, like the souring wine, could not quench a thirsty heart. Yes, I was there.
“Where you there when they laid him in the tomb?”
The women, my ancestors in faith, were drawn by love to the hungry tomb, marked where to return with spices and were the first to discover an empty space. Their love passed on the news that Love was risen: passed it from woman to woman, from child to man to child, until Love reached me. Yes, I was there.
jnkuebler says
Thank you for making this more than a rhetorical question.
Diane says
hungry tomb, I love that.
Diane says
it’s poetry.
Elaine Dent says
Thank you, sisters.