It’s Holy Week and, like years past, I’m stuck on resurrection. I’m dwelling on the areas of my life that feel so dead, so very much over, so that door has been slammed shut. And the resurrection they preach of on Sunday mornings means new life and second chances and healing and restoration in those areas of life, right? Resurrection means life conquers death and God reigns, hallelujah, amen. Resurrection means it’s all going to be okay. Right? Right??
I always feel a little guilty, come Easter. I’m always reminded that God brings LIFE and He LIVES and we should never forget He can BRING LIFE TO THE DEAD. Every year I feel bad about the areas in my life where I, resignedly, claimed death. Endings. Donezo. El fin. Areas of life I had given up on, places I knew would never be fixed, relationships and people that would never be part of my future. And Easter Sunday would come and I’d think, okay, okay – maybe there’s life still to be had here. Maybe these bones will come to life. Maybe God will breath new life into these ashes.
But what if resurrection is something else? What if some of those doors that slammed shut stay shut? What if some of those broken relationships remain broken? What if God meets us in the death and destruction, sits down with us in the ashes – and instead of breathing new life, He simply points the way out. Read More
Here’s the thing: I grew up in the church. I grew up in private Christian school. I also grew up pretty nerdy. All that to say – I know the Bible. I don’t know Hebrew or Greek, I can’t debate you for hours on Paul’s letters, I can’t recite any whole chapters by heart. But I know the basics down pat, I can sing you a song of the 66 books of the Bible, and I was always the pinch hitter for Bible Baseball (If you never played Bible Baseball, did you even go to church in the 90s?) This doesn’t make me a better Christian, it doesn’t earn me a higher seat in heaven, but it does mean I typically know more than most people my age. Except, I recently found out, I know nothing about Easter… (Which is fine, really. That holiday isn’t too important in our faith, right?)
Hosanna. It’s a pretty common word, for us church folk. It’s something I grew up singing, grew up coloring in on sheets in Sunday school. It’s something I knew all about. Until, on Palm Sunday, we were reading Mark’s account of the first Palm Sunday, and I look down in my study Bible to see it explained. “Save”. Save? Save?! Hosanna doesn’t mean save. Hosanna means glory to God in the highest. Praise be to Him. Right? RIGHT? Suddenly, my whole Christian life flashed before my eyes. Everything was a lie. Is Immanuel really “God with us”? Did I even know the 10 commandments? Can I really recite the books of the Bible, or was that false information from my childhood as well?
I then started thinking about Easter. Why is it called Easter?! Why don’t I know this information? Why not Wester? Norther? Is east even an important part of it, or am I just fixating on directions now? Easter isn’t anywhere in the Bible. At least I think Easter isn’t anywhere in the Bible. WHY DON’T I KNOW IF EASTER IS ANYWHERE IN THE BIBLE? I was spiraling, fast. Read More