How long?

 

Gathered to worship. Gathered together, a few of us, socially distanced, masked. I didn’t expect to react with such emotion, but tears sprang to my eyes as soon as we approached the church for this Holy Week service.

It’s hard to wipe away the tears when the mask is just below the eyes, I found.

Greeted inside by Mike, by Mary, and the tears were harder to hold back. How long, Lord, I felt myself groaning inwardly. It’s been a year, but now, how long? How long until we can see each other’s welcoming smiles, hug our friends, sing our praises to God?

Bill greeted us and advised we were to hum along to the hymns, not sing. But dear Sandy, mid-90’s, didn’t quite catch the instruction, and his strong voice rang out through his mask as the piano led us in ‘Beneath the cross of Jesus’. More tears. Precious faith in one so old: I had feared we might never worship with him again, and here we were, hearing his voice declaring his love for Jesus. A golden moment.

Reflections on the last words Jesus spoke from the cross. Reflecting on the love of Jesus for us. His courage. His forgiveness. His faithfulness. His compassion. His agony. More tears.

Final song which came too soon. ‘Thine be the glory’. Humming, in time to Sandy’s singing, longing to stand and belt it out. Instead, my hands raised high, as did my heart.

And then it was over. The gathered people of God began to scatter, ushered out in a socially-distanced fashion, everyone reluctant to leave. More tears.

How long, dear Lord, until you pronounce over this pandemic, ‘It is finished’. How long?