Easter

Matthew 18:20 says, “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

Matthew chapter 18 continues, “Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’”

We already know the story of Jesus on the cross, but I think someone can hear a story a thousand times before its meaning resonates. Yes, Jesus was crucified. Yes, He died for our sins. However, those sentiments mean so little without personal impact. 

Jesus went to the cross willingly, knowing his fate and still loving his betrayer. He did not die without fear or pain or even doubt. In Matthew chapter 27, it is documented that Jesus yelled, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”. Though his intention in saying this is often debated, I think it’s perfectly clear and illustrates a very important part of His sacrifice. 

Jesus never sinned, and yet he was frightened. He was hurt. He was human. A perfect human, but still human just as we are. He didn’t hang on the cross saying “This is great.” He asked God why He’d give up on his child, even when that child has done nothing wrong. 

Evil persists. Humanity fails. We were given freedom, and therefore we collectively abuse it. But why would anything we do matter if we’re merely puppets? If God simply created life to control it. Eternity is perfect and we are worthy of it when we are gifted the power to choose it. That, to me, is the whole point of this short existence on earth. Evil does not negate God – it’s the absence of Him. God exists whether we choose Him or not, but He gave us that choice because we are intelligent, meaningful creatures. 

God exists when we choose wrong. He exists when someone does wrong to us. He is the reward and the motivation for something better. He leaves clues for us like the petrified wood of Noah’s ark or the blood – still alive – discovered at his crucifixion site…but He is also in us. We were made by Him, from Him, of Him.

In my own words, I have asked, “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” I have been surrounded by dark and chosen to reach through it because He was right there waiting. That is what made my choice meaningful. Long lasting. I do not believe because it’s safe or easy or because I’m scared of death. I believe because He is there whether I acknowledge Him or not. I have heard His voice, I can hear the ocean, I can smell the grass, I can sit at a table with my beloved family. I don’t need the world to be perfect to know that these things are good and that this is God. Everything. Everywhere.

So Jesus saw the dark surrounding Him and was afraid of it. That’s being human. He knows us, on every level. 

Good Friday isn’t “good” because Jesus died. It was and is good because we are fortunate enough know the other half of the story. Imagine the hope, the doubt, the fear that His followers felt when they saw who they believed to be their salvation die like any other man. Imagine the relief when He turned out to be exactly who He claimed by breathing once again. Rolling away the impossibly heavy stone and walking again. Light and hope personified. A promise fulfilled and a new promise made. He did not cheat death, but defeated it, rendering what we knew of death as an endless nothing or a means of torment into something wholly good. Something eternal. True freedom. All of our existence on earth turned into something that matters. 

I’m so grateful that I get to sit at a table on Easter and celebrate that promise with God’s people. 

Nov. 29, 2024

I stood stock-still, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror as a wave of pain came and went. 10 seconds, I counted. Only 10. A small miracle, I decided, as the memories of the last time I felt that deep burning in my stomach flashed in the back of my mind. A constant reminder that I’m a ticking time bomb. A constant reminder to be ready at all times, even though there’s no preparing for it. There’s no relief.

Will I survive the next time? Will I be carried out of my home in the hands of an EMT who will scroll on his phone in the ambulance as my eyelids flutter with my failing efforts to stay conscious? Will I once again dig my nails in my poor husband’s skin and beg for death?

How many times do I have to scream, until someone hears me?

Doctors have to hear it all day – the complaints, valid or not. Exaggerated or not. But I don’t ask for help. I don’t like to be a bother. My pain tolerance is high and my disdain for strangers prodding at me keeps me away from their prying hands…it took the little strength I had left, the loss of my pride, the primal desperation to survive despite my verbal pleas otherwise, to ask for help. But my quality of life is rapidly depleting and I have no more answers than the day I started asking questions. I can’t survive hearing “That’s normal,” ever again.

I wonder if I’ll still hear it as I’m lying on my deathbed. I wonder how long I can wait, helpless, for someone to listen long enough to fix me before I’m too far gone. I wonder if I’ll ever be healthy enough to manage normal things like keeping a tidy house and maintaining hobbies and having children. I wonder if it’s too late. I wonder when the constant pain, sickness, and exhaustion will drive me to insanity.

It’s been over a year of loss. My friends, family, my health. It’s been a painful, awful, lonely time in spite of the small joys in between. A lifetime of confusion and endless effort. I’ve thrown my hands to the sky and asked God, “What have I done so wrong?” with no reply. I still have faith, after everything. I still do, because I have so little else left. So I keep trying, despite myself. I take what I can get where I can get it and pray through the tears.

I pray to know what healthy feels like, I pray for a world that makes more sense, I pray for a more empathetic world, I pray to become the kind of person people want to keep around, I pray for those I have lost. I pray, because I need someone to hear me. Because it’s all there’s left to do.

Happy Easter

Jesus was:

  • Radical
  • Subversive
  • Gentle (until He wasn’t)
  • A listener
  • Logical
  • Helpful
  • Honest
  • Empathetic
  • Reflective

He judged those who caused direct harm to others. He never judged a person faced with a complicated decision, a lack of knowing better, a mistake. He understood that little in life is black-and-white; YOU are not simple. Your choices are not simple. Your life is not simple. The practice and understanding of individuality and nuance are essential to joy, to work, and most importantly to maintaining faith.

Remember often to be a Jesus in a culture that praises Pharisees.