After Easter
 
After Easter, things settle down.   Liturgy planners collapse.  The church is finally clean.  It’s back to normal.  The intensity of Holy Week fades: night after night in Church, the rituals, lips touching the wood, songs joyous and yearning.  The brunch savored.  The eggs found.  Chocolates and greetings spread round.  Children finally return to school.  Another Easter’s gone by.

Colors return but the world seems flatter.  Greens push back against browns on blades and branches.  Flowers spring up overnight.  The birds beat the alarm clock.  It’s finally here.  Will the magnolias survive the high winds?  Summer plans take shape.  The mystery of our being is overtaken by seeds and playoff games.

It’s hard to ignore Lent.  It’s longer than distractions.  If you blank out for a week or two, there it is again, purple and penitential.  The call to church for reconciliation.  The extra visit to the soup kitchen.  Remembering to be grateful.  Sinking to my knees.  God, you are near.  Come closer.
 
After Easter, what’s to stop the drift?  The quick prayer, the nod at God, the repartitioning of my time?  I try to find a cubicle for everything.
 
The story seemed to end.  Until that day the strangers showed up at synagogue.  Their words troubled us.  They spoke of God’s faithfulness.  Through exile and wars, God sent judges, kings, and prophets to show us the way.  Now there is Jesus to follow.  Every promise is kept, but not always as we expect.   It wasn’t supposed to be like that.
 
Messengers keep coming.  They irritate us.  They pull us past the daily planner and turn our eyes to God.  We listen.  We try to put all we know to be true into practice.  We try to stay awake.
 
It is our turn now.  We are the messenger.  God, send me.