The other day I was preparing the elements for our hygienic, socially distanced celebration of communion.  So, I was in the kitchen, clad in gloves and pouring little sips of grape juice into the little plastic containers and snapping on the little lids.  I put communion wafers into their little containers as well.  After I put the juice on a tray in the fridge and took the wafers upstairs, I realized that I felt… a little bored.  And then it struck me: I felt bored, not numb, not in pain, not desperate to sit down, not worried that my feet wouldn’t know what to do on the staircase.  You know what this means?  I am better.  Healed.  Sure, I’m still fat and slow and as easily fatigued as an old fat codger would be, but if you take that into account, I’m in great shape for the shape I’m in.

My back surgery was in mid-October and I have been better ever since, but for quite a while I still felt like I was still recuperating (because I was).  I have been feeling pretty good for a while, but sometimes I forget how much better I am.  Being able to stand and fill communion cups is one of those things that brought it home to me.

Healing from grief is often like this.  For a long time, we feel only the pain of loss.  Any normal emotions that we show to the world are pretty much faked.  But over time, little by little our pain, though still very real, takes up less space.  It begins to recede enough to allow in other feelings and new experiences.  Eventually, we notice ourselves feeling pretty good.  We can remember our loved one with more joy in the memory than pain for their loss.  We realize that we are healing.

I suspect that our spiritual healing takes place in much the same way.  We are growing and stretching, often in such subtle and incremental ways that we are unaware of the change.  But, from time to time, we catch ourselves experiencing a sense of joy or hope that was previously lacking.  Our worries take up just a bit less room; our trust occupies more space.

Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians 5:17 “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”  When we read verses like that, we might think of ourselves as deficient Christians because we don’t feel all new and shiny.  But maybe this business of being a new creation takes time to evolve, just the like the created universe.

Prayer:  Creating God, thank you for continuing to re-create me.  Every day let the old pass away as you make me new.  Amen.