Renting and Resolving

Closure-less conflict is inevitable in this life. Sometimes, it seems like our only companion.

I went out with some friends tonight to get some air and walk the city. We took public transportation to the Lincoln Park area to wander and look in shops. It was good to be together for one last adventure before Easter weekend. We were cool, checking out the scene and acting ridiculous, when one of the guys suggested going into a boutique that was doing a liquidation sale. The atmosphere was hip, the clothing overpriced, and the random household goods were really unique. Essentially, your typical upscale Chicago shop, albeit with flip-flops from Morocco splattered in among table decor resembling fish. 

My friend was checking out an unorganized shelf of goodies and picked up a container labeled in French. I turned to examine an antique bicycle when I hear a noise and an, "Oh. My. Gosh."

The container of salve had shattered in his hands and a green , hot mess was all over the shelf and the floor. Eucalyptus scent floated through the air as I stood frozen. Needless to say, the shopkeeper was furious and cursed rudely to my friend as he attempted to help clean up and apologized several times. He was frustrated at her rudeness, we were all uncomfortably standing there, and we eventually just got out in an awkward state of silence. He was mad at himself, wouldn't really talk about it, and the rest of the evening was a failed attempt to get back to the original state of adventure. We even parted ways early to head back home. 

My Spanish friend pointed out wisely, "It was awkward because there was no resolution."

How often in our lives do we long for closure? If you're like me, all the time. I want things to be wrapped up and finished and made right again. I want there to be forgiveness and healing. Yet, because of this fallen world and our own flesh, sometimes the conflicts never get resolved and we're left feeling frustrated, angry, and embarrassed about everything.

Tonight marks the night when Jesus and his disciples shared a final meal together before his death. It must have been a blow to them: the sudden arrest after all that fellowship, the empty, restless feelings of unfinished work, the hole in their hearts from the shame of deserting him. There was no resolution, and they were dying in disbelief that it was over.

Praise be to God that it wasn't over; that Sunday is the ultimate closure for our seemingly-endless Fridays, and the pain we suffer from our sinful selves can be made whole again in the saving blood that washes it all clean.

As I reflect on the events of this Easter, I am reminded of the One who made himself blind so I could see. The conflict CAN be resolved, and it has been by the greatest Mediator in the world. Our eyes can confidently look to him.