The Place of Tension

He was between songs when I approached his tent Saturday morning at the local farmer’s market. “Good morning,” I said. “Good morning, Nancy. Happy Easter!” Because I knew he is a retired pastor, I responded, “I try to refrain from ‘Happy Easter’ on this Holy Saturday.” He looked at me quizzically. I went on, “It’s important to me that I don’t rush through these days prior to the resurrection. Especially today.” As a way of physical expression, I raised my upturned palms and moved them back and forth a bit as if balancing something heavy or weighty. “It’s important I hold the tension between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.” He nodded slowly as if an understanding was breaking in. “Tension,” he said. “I like that. What did you call it again?” “Holy Saturday,” I said. 

Tension. It’s something we all live with, not just on Holy Saturday, which, by the way, is a day the church through the ages really hasn’t known what to do with. (Sadly I recently read where it was actually called Easter Buy Day.)

Let me give you a few examples of tension with which we are all familiar.

Spring’s attempt to pry winter’s bony fingers from its clutch. The weather has been beautifully warm these last days. But a violent storm moves through, bringing with it destruction and a return to cooler air. Buds are blown and lay scattered on the ground; yet the soil holds the warmth of the last few days. Can you sense the tension of one season trying to gain hold on another? Back and forth it goes until one wins.

Each morning the light slowly breaks upon the dark; and in the evening, the reverse occurs. Steady moments of mysteriously veiled tension. Sooner or later, one always gives. 

One of my more favorite moments of tension is that juncture when the tide changes. When for just a nanosecond, it stands still in order to make its reversal. I am curious as to what happens at that moment of change. How does that moment happen? Oh, the mind of God. Who can know it? 

In music, a suspended chord that does not resolve allowing tension to hang in the air. It goes unnoticed by no one; not even the most musically illiterate. What does one do with that except to sit with it … and hold the tension.

And the Scriptures themselves bear witness to tension. 

A God who becomes a man.

A King who rides a donkey.

When I am weak, I am strong.

In losing my life, I find it.

And on an even more intense level: what about the cross of Christ itself? Two poles cut from living trees. One vertical and the other laying horizontally on top held by a dynamic display of … tension. A literal example of the true force being played out upon it. A Savior being executed.

And we have come full circle. To Holy Saturday. A day of just sitting with something we don’t know what to do with. The day between the death of Christ and His glorious resurrection. The constant push and pull between great sorrow and exuberant joy. But is this not our constant reality in most any given day or week? We hold joy and grief in the same moment. We love and yet hate. We forgive while still feeling the pain of betrayal. We live in the light and the dark. We experience faith and the lack of. All at the same time. And if we have ever sat at the death bed of a loved one, we know that sacred tension of the here and the there. Of the staying and the going. The push and pull and push again that is common to all mankind.

So what do we do with these things? For sure we can’t deny they don’t exist. To do so would deny our very own existence. What is the answer? May I suggest we learn to live with the tension; to hold those opposing forces and allow them to become creative, life-giving, liberating factors for us. After all, the two opposing forces are not really mutually antagonistic. It’s just the opposite. In fact, from a pianist’s point of view, it’s the tension of the strings that makes the music. My job is to keep them tuned to the proper Pitch.

What sacred tension might you be holding? Are your strings tuned in such a way that they sing?