A Liturgy for Those Awaiting Resurrection
By Ian Whitlow
Oh God who makes all things new,
we see signs of that newness
even here, even now.
In births and baptisms,
weddings and workplaces,
in the green grass growing
and the riot of Ozark spring,
in community groups,
in neighborhoods,
in families,
we see lives transformed
by your love as even here, even now,
signs of Your Kingdom are peeking through
the cracks in Bentonville concrete.
We thank you, loving Father,
for these daily glimpses of your glory.
And yet.
And yet all around us we hear
the sounds of creation groaning:
Of sirens surging to emergencies,
of fights, and flights, and the frightening
moments when everything falls apart,
of last breaths taken too soon –
and it’s always too soon.
With creation, we groan.
And we pray, even here, even now,
for resurrection.
We pray that You would hasten the day
when all our tears will turn out to be
the wine of our long-awaited marriage feast,
when this endless winter finally thaws,
and we’ll hear the coming of spring in Your footsteps,
when You’ll remake every tomb into a womb once more,
crack open the coffins and let the living out
into the air of new creation.
But most of all, we pray as we await the day
when this dim glass we look through shatters
so that we may see You face to face,
when you will be our God, and we your people
forevermore.
Amen. Even here, even now – come, Lord Jesus.
