I exited the front doors of St. Mary's Church with the cross firmly in tow. I followed the path through the church yard, entering Swan Street with my plain, black robe billowing in the misty breeze.
I traveled along the pavement (the sidewalk) in Kingsclere
past the hair salon
past the gallery
past the cafe
past the grocery store
past the butcher
past the chemist
past the pub
until I reached St. Peter and St. Paul Church.
I entered the front doors and leaned the cross at the front. This cross-bearing was profoundly strange and wonderful. This was my own early start to Good Friday.
Then, our collective worship began, and we ushered in the truth and the darkness of the cross. We prayed together. We sang together. We followed the cross together along the pavement on Swan Street
past the pub
past the chemist
past the butcher
past the grocery store
past the cafe
past the gallery
past the hair salon
until we reached St. Mary's Church yard.
"It is finished."
One by one the Good Friday crowd placed red carnations at the foot of the same cross that had quietly and prominently led our procession. The bed of red carnations organically (and unexpectedly) formed into the shape of a prickly crown of thorns beneath the cross. There was no turning back. We were living into the memory of our crucified Lord.
It was finished...
but it was not the end.
The red carnation crown of thorns formed by the hands of humanity was transformed into a never-ending ring of snowy white, resurrection lilies, bearing witness to our God of life and our risen Lord.
In the end, it wasn't just a Good Friday procession of life-draining finality. It was a procession aiming in the direction of life-giving grace and salvation for an Easter people. That is where our walk along Swan Street would ultimately take us--to the empty tomb, to the resurrection, to hope, to life!
Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
2 comments:
Amy. I think you may have a poet-authoress hidden in there. *sigh* Now I'm going to have to race you to be published...
An interesting thing about our Easter - it is always cold and yucky. We had 70-degree weather for nearly all of March, except for a freak 3-day blizzard, but then for Easter, it was cold, rainy, and just not spring-like. I started wondering about the Easter message (new life) in the Southern Hemisphere where the seasons are turning to autumn instead of to spring.
I'm sugar detoxing and I tend to ramble, can you tell? :)
Thank you, Aerin, for checking in and for your comments. (You are generous.)
The same thing happened here on Easter. It was beautiful and dry and sunny in March and early April, and then the clouds and rain set in for Good Friday and stayed. It was damp and misty and cold on Easter Sunday (brrrrr!) and, of course, sunny on Easter Monday...
Yes, interesting to think about the alternate, hemisperic perspective. My friend in New Zealand has really had to adjust to the differences. And to think that the majority of Christians don't associate snowy winter with Christmas at all. So much for the snow villages and snow globes...
Thanks for the blog chat!!
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