Children of Light

I was asked to write a reflection piece for Holy Week a few weeks back for my aunt's church. I look back at what I wrote back then and see how apt it is for what's happening at the moment.

I tried writing about what is "happening at the moment", but I dare not yet. Not yet. 

In any case, here is what I wrote.
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As a child, in a strange way, I associated Holy Week with sadness. Understandably, I suppose, since the passion and suffering of Christ are often at the forefront. Even Palm Sunday has a rather sad undercurrent to it: The people had heard about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Some took this as a sign that he was the real Messiah and rejoiced. Meanwhile, the “chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in Him” (John 12: 10-11, NIV). Amidst all that joy, Jesus already knew. He already knew he was going to suffer.

I suppose the "suffering" part of Holy Week is easier for us humans to relate to than the "holy" part, terminology notwithstanding. For one thing, I can easily name numerous moments in my life when I was suffering; when I was holy, not as much. It’s almost as if this capacity to suffer, and the very experience of suffering, makes me human. A human in great need of the Father.

In the television production Shadowlands (1985), writer William Nicholson creates a scene between C.S. Lewis and one of his friends, talking about the suffering brought about by Joy Gresham's (Lewis' wife) battle with cancer:

Harry: … I know how hard you've been praying; and now God is answering your prayers.
C. S. Lewis: That's not why I pray, Harry. I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me.

This is what this week will be about: the changes that will happen in us with the ebbing and flowing of joy and suffering; the alternation between celebrating and grieving. And inasmuch as it is easy–almost automatic–to call upon the Lord when we suffer, let’s pray that we also seek to find him in moments of thanksgiving and celebration just as easily.

It is no accident that the sadness of this week is bookended with joy–we begin and end with joy. Palm Sunday, the joy of believing in a promise without really understanding what it is (faith); and Easter Sunday, the joy of living in that promise, understanding that we are truly, truly loved (salvation).

So no matter where you find yourself in this continuum as you vacillate between sadness and joy, remember that Jesus said, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going. Believe in the light while you have the light, so that you may become children of light” (John 12: 35-36, NIV).