We Believe, We Do.

We sit rather posed this Sunday morning. Our heels are on, our hair is done. We even smell nice, too. With straightened backs we recite again that ancient creed: "I believe in God the Father Almighty…"

We believe, we do. The words form on our tongues with delight and roll around our mouthes with savoring adoration. We believe…

"in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord. Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontus Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried…"

We believe, we do.

And it is this shattering belief that causes our mascara to run, our painted fingers to grope at one another, and our well-adorned bodies to quake with realization.

We believe.

"He descended into hell…"

We do.

This belief shrouds us with the darkness of these waiting days. Here, there is little light, little hope, little delight. Because there is an end in sight. But it is not yet.

And we wait.

Our facades are crumbling, Hidden One. We cannot stand so projected and unmoved. We cannot bear our adorned selves this Sabbath day because we cannot bear our inner state; the selves that joyed at Your first arrival when we thought You would end all our discomfort, and the selves that ran at the first accusation. We cannot present ourselves prim, proper and put together with the rattling reality of Your hiddeness resounding within our members. We sit in the darkness of these "not yet" days and see ourselves not yet ready for Your reentry.

But…


we believe.

And in this faith, we wait for the days of the end of the liturgy.

We believe, we do.

So, come Lord Jesus. Come soon.