I don't know what I'm doing.
/
Well played, Ohio. Liturgically correct weather. I'll roll with it as long as it's gone by Easter. Although I can recall snow on Easter... so I'm detaching. But also sighing ever so slightly.
Even since taking the photo, the snow has covered the tulip shoots. And I'm glad that my daughter picked a daffodil for my table instead of leaving it to grow in the woods like I told her to. It's doing quite well in its mason jar.
I'm admiring it and thinking...
We recently started watching The Chosen series and my imagination is captivated. Awakened a little more to the reality that conversion looks very little like the pretty tables of IG and more like dark desperate places. It smells of unwashed fishermen and spikenard. It sounds like guttural weeping and gasps of relief.
I believe that an important part of deep conversion is a restoration of our imagination to holy things. Taking it back from the world which perverts our way of seeing. A beautiful table and perfect Easter baskets... and a well-dressed family on Easter morning with matching dresses and ties...
They are not wrong. But neither are they enough.
One of my favorite images from the series is the contrast between the rich Shabbat celebration of Nicodemus and the rough Shabbat dinner hosted by Mary of Magdela. She hasn't hosted one before. It is her first in a long time because she has been away from God and possessed and oppressed by demons.
So she holds her first Shabbat meal. And she moves through the evening with a little nervousness, great humility, and childlike joy: "I do not know what I am doing."
In the meantime, Nicodemus presides over a perfect Shabbat. The table is beautiful. Every word is correct. It is not wrong... and yet Nicodemus is portrayed as seeking and wondering... understanding somehow that there is more.
My prayer today:
Lord, I do not know what I am doing. Please accept my rough efforts. Help me yearn for more beyond what is passing. Take my shallowness with you to the grave. Amen.