The part of you that you long for, the part you thought was dead, is not there in that place where dead things lie. You cannot take my word for this. You cannot know it until you go and look for yourself.
Be still and quiet and look. Easter morning and every morning, take some time to be still and quiet and look. Notice every part of who you are: scared parts, controlling parts, playful parts, vulnerable parts, trusting parts, skeptical parts, creative parts. They’re all still there, still alive. Start each day with the first-hand experience that the tomb is empty. The wholeness that you long for is with you, no part of you sealed off from yourself.
Four gospels, four stories -- four variations on the winding path toward arising.
In the Mark story, you encounter your fear. The powers that be are coming after you. If you try to reconnect with the part of you that feels separated, you fear you will be punished for it.
You simply run. You tell no one. Yes, that’s a true story; that’s one way the story truly does unfold.
In the John story, you go in solitude to see the empty tomb – and no frightening or reassuring guy in white or angel is there. You return from the tomb and speak to some trusted others. You speak with a confidant, a teacher, a spiritual guide, who goes with you back to the tomb, and then leaves you there alone again, crying. Then you turn around, and there it is. Right there in front you – the wholeness that is your birthright. Even then, you mistake it for the gardener. But it calls your name. The banished part of you calls your name, claims its place, and in that moment you realize yourself. That's a true story.
The Easter story is that the part of you that you thought was dead, isn’t.
In the Matthew story, you encounter enemies that discredit that story. They tell you that there is no new life for you to discover. They have been bribed by their own needs for the comfort of the familiar status quo to say, “There is no transformation. There is no greater wholeness. Those parts of who you are were carried away in the night and will remain dead and gone from you.” But you know better. You looked in that tomb and saw it was empty. You saw a new life that they cannot imagine. That’s a true story.
In the Luke story, it’s not your enemies but your friends. You go to speak to them about the discovery – this frightening yet promising new reality you have discovered. And they don’t believe you. Liberation? Wholeness? It is an idle tale, they think. And it’s OK that they think that. They have to see for themselves, as you have to see for yourself. You can’t take anybody’s word for it. That, too, is a true story.
You stand in the meadow, between the Golgotha of crucifixion and the cave of the tomb. You stand in that open field of transition, on the verge of discovery that the tomb of what you thought was dead in you is empty. What’s that meadow for? What’s the metaphor? The meadow -- and the metaphor -- is that open space from which you can step toward new life and new wholeness.
Happy Easter. You are risen.
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This is part 5 of 5 of "The Meadow For Metaphor"
Part 1: Four Easter Stories
Part 2: Who Have You Buried?
Part 3: Matt & Luke
Part 4: You are Mary