 It's Thanksgiving week. Families are traveling. Tables are being set. We're preparing for the gathering; the food, the conversations, the complicated dynamics that come with bringing everyone together. There's excitement and anxiety, joy and exhaustion, all mixed together.
And woven through it all is this expectation that we should be grateful. That we should feel thankful. That this should be a time of abundance and warmth.
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 I know that the title seems backwards. I mean, ends always follow beginnings, right? We Christians, however, are a peculiar people. This Sunday we will observe the Festival of Christ the King. It is an ending. We have spent the last year telling the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Our gospel guides have been Luke and John. This Sunday we will celebrate and anticipate the completion, the consummation, of the reign of God and redemption of all things.
 Every three months they take pictures of my scarred liver. The scar is a good thing, a friend, a sign of grace. The scar is where the cancer used to be. The scar is a sign of life where death used to reside.
 We live in a world that doesn't quite know what to do with grief.
People die, and we send a card or drop off a casserole. There's a funeral, maybe. Then, within a week or two, the world expects things to go back to normal. You return to work. Show up at church. Smile. Move on. |
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