for Easter Sunday
Oh God, I stretch out my hands to you
in this early Easter darkness.
I need you to pull me up
and set me on my feet again,
for I am weak and tired.
God, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Spirit, have mercy.
God, on that first Easter morning
while it was still dark,
one woman went alone to the tomb
to do what could be done to honor you,
though hope had drained away.
Two bright angels met her there, and then-
how is it possible? -
you were there, fully alive, beyond belief.
Blessed are we who stretch out our hands to you
in doubt and grief,
in sickness of body and mind and spirit,
our prayers not fully realized,
rejoicing... anyway.
For that is what makes us Easter people:
carrying forth the realized hope
of the Resurrected One,
singing our alleluias great and small,
while it is still dark.
Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
by Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie
(from The Lives We Actually Have: 100 Blessings for Imperfect Days)
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