Without notice, all of the lights went out.
A door slammed.
Some people gasped. I jumped, startled.
There was no cue, but we all filed out of the sanctuary. Nobody said a word.
It was finished.
***
Jesus knew what waited for him the day after the Final Supper. We knew what this meant.
I drove home in complete silence.
I felt like the person I loved the most was dying because of something I did.
It wasn’t fair.
“Why? How?”
I’ve spent most of my life reflecting on Easter, the death and the resurrection, and have yet to reconcile it. I know it was what was meant to be. And who am I to take his cup?
I just need to stop trying to rationalize love.
And I need to let him kneel before me and wash my dirty, messed up, broken-hearted, fearful but eternally grateful feet.