The Day of Absence

On a cold autumn day in 1863, with an ongoing war and the fate of the nation hanging in the balance, President Lincoln stepped away from managing the war for a small dedication ceremony in Pennsylvania. When the time came for him to speak, the most powerful man in the nation—the man who commanded the machinery of war—stood before a field where that power had been made small next to the consecration in blood given by the three thousand men who had laid down their lives so that others might live free.

On this Holy Saturday, more than two thousand years ago, my Lord’s body lay cold in His rocky tomb. Just as the power of the Lincoln was made small next to the sacrifice of those three thousand, so too is their sacrifice made small next to the power contained in one drop of His Precious Blood. Rather than give just one drop, He gave it all. The total outpouring of all that He had to give says more than any words I could ever write.

Tomorrow, I will revel in the joy of the astonishing things that come from His great sacrifice. But today, I leave His great gift to speak for itself. Relieved of trying to explain what could never be fully understood, today I mourn the loss of His earthly presence, so selflessly given up that we all might be truly free.