A.D.

you must believe in

The invisible world–

Atoms, neutrons, quarks 

And other molecular angels

These bits of light and matter

Swirl around us

Halos of an inevitable world 

You bend to kiss his brow

No longer visible with naked eye.

But what of the others?

There to receive him

Just beyond the scrim 

Clouds of witnesses

The insubstantial irreplaceable 

Eternal us

Funny how often Lincoln shows up in our 

Iterations of heaven

And how young grandma always looks

As though you and I could 

Stand the light 

Ten million stars are just

This single flickering candle in 

A fleck of night

He dusts off his shoulder,

Strong right arm

Gathers our once-mortal hearts

Into immortal, imperishable we

We who will stand

Candidates for this eternal

Song sung loud

By our six year old selves

Forever

Funeral

Weddings are such artificial confections, but all funerals have a unifying element of truth–we are all prone to die.

The manner and time vary, the seeming finality does not.

Unless…

Unless Jesus is right.  Unless He is the resurrection and the life.  In that case the things we take for granted about the finality of the grave may not be all there is.

I went to a funeral recently.  An untimely one.  The priest gave the family a final story from Acts 3–the silver and gold I have none story.

Only he did not tell it right.  Instead of the healing of the beggar and his resultant joy–physical, exuberant, unmissable dancing and jumping! The priest says that Peter says he will be there and pray.

Don’t get me wrong–Christians being there and praying is getting to be miraculous and rare, it just isn’t what Peter said or did.  At least not all he did.

The thing that Peter did for the beggar was public, miraculous, transforming, and unmistakable.

And powerfully reminiscent of his Master.  When Peter heals the beggar he signals that we are in AD now.  He lets us know that any narrative that portrays Jesus just another victim of Roman torture is incomplete. 

He lets us know that the flood of the miraculous has gushed into the ordinary.

A flood that should wash through every wedding and every funeral with the insistent song of redemption and resurrection and eternity.

Nothing quiet here.