On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. Luke 24:1-3
Isolated. Marginalized. Disenfranchised. Vulnerable. Suffering. Dying. These are the people Christ came to heal and to lift up. These too are the ones suffering the most during the Corona-Virus pandemic. These people may now be us. In just a few short weeks, many of us in the industrialized world have gone from a life of comfort to finding ourselves isolated…marginalized…disenfranchised…vulnerable…suffering…and even dying. I’m not unaccustomed to sleepless nights, but now I don’t even know how to pray. “Can You please be with the whole world tonight, Lord?” I offer. It sounds so infantile. He’s “with the whole world” every night. I mentally run through my ever burgeoning prayer list: our family members on the front lines—health care providers, grocery and convenience store clerks—to people who refuse to believe this is happening and choose not to take measures to make themselves and others safe. I pray that conspiracy theories and political ambitions will find no fertile ground these days; let the truth of what’s happening prevail. I ask God to help all the helpers because we have all, suddenly, become somebody’ helper.
We are all the people Christ came to heal and lift up. This year, the stone covering Christ’s tomb is rolled away to reveal a new light, a new awareness, that tragedy can strike any of us, just when we least expect it. But Christ’s light is also revealing a new awakening for everyone: we are human because of other humans. Without each other, we are just a shell. If we don’t care for each other, we all lose.
The light of Christ’s open tomb is also revealing astounding changes: air quality has improved in many places without the crush of vehicles, and some warring factions have declared temporary ceasefires. These events give hope. And just as Christ lay in the tomb for a period before smashing the bonds of hell, so we must be hopeful and patient until this nightmare ends.
Jesus, You said “no” to death and “yes” to hope and light and love. Share with us Your gracious strength. Amen
Meg Blaine Corrigan finds ideas for her devotional blogs in everyday places and events, from comic strips to magazines and books, comments on the fly from people she meets, ancient memories of her childhood, and nigglings from God. To date, she has written nearly 700 different devotions, filling one book of daily readings, Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions for the Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, published in 2015. Meg is working on a second book (Saints TWO) which she had hoped would be completed by now. She posts once a week, which means in seven years, she will have enough entries to fill a second book. Sometimes life gets in the way of writing, so Meg is pacing herself, enjoying spending time with her husband, their four daughters and spouses, ten grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, as well as their rescue dog, Bassett/Beagle mix Ginger. Meg is involved in volunteer work at her church, Christ Lutheran in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, and also with sexual violence/sex trafficking prevention and education. She speaks to groups whenever she if offered the opportunity. She is a voracious reader of other people’s writing, which gives her lots of ideas for more devotional blogs. Read more about her at www.MegCorrigan.com or contact her at MegCorrigan@comcast.net .