We've all heard it; perfect guy (doesn't even try to kiss you on the 50th date but buys flowers every day), son of God they say, heals people, dies, resurrects after three days. Some laugh, others scoff, some just pass it along the faith-buffet after deciding which parental and societal influences to carry as adults. Some opt in, others out, others don't care much either way. For me, I opted in. Like really in. The part that scares me?
I am numb, make no mistake.
"Holy" words are lifeless black print; ironically, they feel dead. And whether tied to faith or not, we've all felt it. It's the eerie quiet, whether in connection to faith, or family, or relationships, or the future. I'm talking about the lull; not the mountaintop, but the 3 am anxiety rush. The "what if?" or "oh, shit".
More irony: This is what "Good Friday" is.
It's not the mountaintop. It's the 3 am anxiety. The "where am I going?" or "is this going to get better?" It's the tragedy in Brussels; Paris; Flint; our presidential candidates mess; people without basic rights -- even in our own country; the young girl who jumped onto train tracks at Eastern Market metro this week; the crying and the loss.
It's okay to be numb, or hurt. And maybe this feeling won't be remedied by Sunday, or Monday, or May. It's okay if this is a not-so-good Friday. But please remember, even if it's a not-so-good Friday, it is not a not-so-good life.
So please stay here; please fight. Don't let this be the end of the story (for either of us). Let's advocate for each other; call out unjust rulings and laws; sound loud the cries of justice that cannot be heard in Syria, or Southeast DC, downtown LA, or the US/Mexico Border.
It may take longer than three days, but stay. Because even if we're numb, I know that I was once fire, and you were once fire; and maybe if we stick together, something will catch. This is the pause before the "finish"; the lack-of-breath-underwater panic; the moonless night.
Sit here with me, now. I think I see something on the horizon. And even if it's not-so-good in this moment, I don't think our fire's died. Something inside says we're still made of light.
[Or...maybe ask me again on Sunday. Updates 2 follow, I'm sure.]