A Broken Hallelujah .... by Jocelyn Faire

A Broken Hallelujah

broken

adjective

2. reduced to fragments; fragmented.

3. ruptured; torn; fractured.

4. not functioning properly; out of working order.

Twelve Years ago for my 50^th birthday my son and his to be fiancee sang a song for me ... Jeff Buckley's version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. The forty or so birthday celebrants listened in amazement at the gifted guitarist and the strong female voice and the beauty of the words. A week and a half later this same song was sung on a missions trip in a Mexican orphanage at chapel time. That time I had goosebumps on my arms, the crowd was hushed, the electricity was palpable in the air and the audience of a hundred Spanish children and adults joined in with the Hallelujahs.

And ten days later these two singers and his sister were in a car accident that transported them to heaven.

So what does Easter mean to me? It means that even though the world is full of brokenness, the resurrection message is one of HOPE. I have not arrived to where I'd like to be in the journey, but I do not grieve (or live) as those without hope. (1 Thess 4:13)

Hope is searching for signs of spring on a cold April day. Hope is continuing to paint Easter eggs. Hope is staying in touch with a drug addict in Australia. Hope is making soup. Hope types words of comfort. Hope sings a song, says a prayer. And hope needs bolstering on a regular basis. For me, hope (as I think I've blogged before) is Hold On Perspective Eternal. Hope has eyes to see the bigger picture.

Hope is a choice

Hope has given me my voice

to question to doubt, to scream to shout

Hope has been in the midst

as a spark

as a river

a cause to shiver

Hope behind, hope before

Hope surrounds as it opens and shuts the door

The taste of hope

And I want more

More of the source

more of truth

more of the grace it has given.

I want Hope on this earth

And a taste of Heaven.

The resurrection of Easter means that which was broken by death, now moves towards wholeness. It means that I will hear that Hallelujah song again, and in heaven it will not be a broken Hallelujah. It means that while I am on this planet I and many others continue to live with loss. I will always wonder where would my son, my daughter be if they were still alive. Would I be a grandmother for their children? But the hope means that I can also put the pause on this line of questioning in order to see the beauty that has subsequently come into my life. It means that as I share with others in grief, I have hope to share. We may live in a broken world, but the presence of God is everywhere. It is the beauty of the sunset, it is the cry of a newborn baby, it is a flower budding, it is a wedding ring. We have been promised that the same power that raised Christ from the dead is the power that works in us. In Ephesians 1, Paul's prayer is that we could see the utter extravagance of God's work in us who trust him, the endless energy and boundless strength. And oh how I need both the energy and the strength. The cross was a once and done deal, I wish it were that simple to say I have hope, to say I don't grieve ... I am a work in progress, I practice hope daily.

Wholeness: noun the state of forming a complete and harmonious whole; unity. The state of being unbroken or undamaged.

Hope helps me move to wholeness as my Hallelujahs become less broken.

Here's a link to the Hallelujah song: there are many versions of this song, in the first the introduction is a bit long, but it's my favorite.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4 Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSgsW9GLerA Alexander Burke's -a bit more theatrical

Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out of My Head? Grief as an Out of Body Experience