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Every Easter I get to reflect on what I call the greatest restorative project in history - God reconciling humanity to himself.
‘In the darkness we were waiting, without hope, without light’ these words by Brooke Ligertwood remind me of who I am without God breaking into my life. More than this, Christianity’s claim is that this is the default setting of all of humanity. Knowingly or unknowingly, we are all waiting, without hope and without light.
Christianity starts from the assumption that we don’t know what we’re doing as humans. In fact, we’re so unable to help ourselves, St. Paul puts it like this ‘you were dead in your transgressions and sins’. Dead? Dead. It is confrontational to our ego. But like a thorough doctor who cares more about locating and curing the cancer than about empty platitudes, the tone of Christianity is solemn sincerity.
This world can be so heavy, and often it’s in our relationships where we feel the heaviness most. The thing that keeps me going is remembering the lengths to which God went to extend his friendship and care to me and what it cost him in doing so.
‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life’ John 3:16.
Many people understandably think faith is a crutch that some people use to get by, something to feel more secure in this world. But when you reflect more deeply, what lasting comfort can suspended belief bring? It can only bring comfort through the bliss of ignorance. But Christianity doesn’t claim to massage our pain through might haves and might nots. Its claims are earthy, embodied, historic. The Easter story can only be good news if it’s true and if it can stand up to scrutiny. Like anyone seeking to live authentically, I am being upfront about where my ultimate hope is: the resurrection of Christ.
Here’s a poem I wrote based on an interaction with Pontius Pilate and Jesus:
‘Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer.’ - John 19:9
Before Pilate
After three years of having much to say,
Our saviour remains silent.
He peers through the iris of Pilate,
He marvels.
He remembers how he flung planets into space like marbles,
And saw the face of Satan in that cosmic fall.
He looks to what is ahead and meekness ties his mouth,
The mighty hosts of heaven are quiet now,
They hold their breath.
Not much is left to say now other than the resurrection itself.
It will speak a loud and bright boast.
Whether you celebrate Easter or not, you are most welcome here. Why not take a moment to reflect on what gives you hope in your relationships beyond yourself. Where do you go when you feel your strength is spent?