Rock. And roll.

Ever notice how some phrases and words get all the bad rap while others seem to enjoy the limelight just by their mere mentioning?

Not a word that conjures up a lot of positive warm fuzzies.

Mmm…lots of thoughts of rising above a situation as well as mind-altering dentist office décor.

Traditionally, the word ‘rock’ has enjoyed a pretty positive light.
He’s my rock…
The bedrock of the organization…
Rock of ages…

But how many times have you been stuck between a rock and a hard place? How many times has it seemed a huge boulder stood in the way of your forward motion?

I’m wondering what your ‘rock’ is today.
Is it financial? A mortgage that has taken you way in over your head.
Relational? A friendship that seems to cyclically end with hurt feelings.
A marriage that seems to harbor more bitterness than respect?
The loss of a dream…or the dog-tail-frustration of simply trying to find a direction for your life?
Medical problems that were unforeseen or prematurely debilitating?

What is your rock?

They seem enormous at times, dauntingly overshadowing the possibilities of growth or healing. Seems just the time we round the corner and feel we are making progress they drop out of the sky to force us to take – yet again – another route.

I cannot imagine what the disciples must have been thinking as they trudged through Holy Week. I’m pretty sure if the term ‘WTF’ had been around, surely they would have expressed that to each other many times as they sat together , wringing their hands in confusion and utter disappointment.

The picture of the cross seems to be the universal sign of Easter. Many times it is draped in purple, signifying Christ’s ultimate resurrection. Defying the finality of death.

But perhaps second to the triumphant picture of the cross, is the bewilderment held in the picture of the rock, rolled away from the tomb.

Where was he?!
Where did he go?!
I saw him die; didn’t you see him die?
Who has messed with his burial place??

That’s the picture I treasure the most: the rolled away rock. It is usually depicted in pretty much the same way. Round rock. Round tomb. Dark hole. Lots of dusty dirt and some sparing greenery.

Yet that’s the picture I have seen time and time again in my life.
Immoveable problems.
Insurmountable grief.


I love that the story does not say God zapped the rock and blew it into smithereens. I love that the rock is still there. Still in the picture. Still present. Still daunting.

Just moved.
Slightly to the right.

In a few days, Christians worldwide will celebrate our highest tradition. Our biggest story. The Mt. Everest of our faith. Our strongest symbol of hope. Easter is a time of renewal and a time of death-conquering symbolism of what God is capable of doing in each of our lives.

For me, however, I like the rock.

Christ arose.
Died a human death. Then God brought him back to life.

But first, He had to move a rock.

He didn’t eliminate it.
He just moved it out of the way, so that Christ’s exit strategy could be realized.
The rock had to move so Christ could step forward.

What rock do you need moved?
You are wrong if you expect it will magically disappear.
But are you anticipating that it will be moved? Just far enough that you can step forward, and into a better life?

You can’t do it alone.
I know a Rock Mover, however, that specializes in rocks. And roll.


2 thoughts on “Rock. And roll.

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