A Glimpse of Hope

Slip through the door,
With eyes on the ground.
Another day
Shivering in the darkness,
Weary from the slog
Of trudging through this dry land.

But today,
Look around
And glimpse

Shoots of green
Are pushing their way through
The dense cold ground.
New life is emerging.
Seeds that were buried
Have been broken
So that something more
Could be birthed.

Even the air feels different now.
Anticipation of the future
Is being carried in the breeze.
Breathe deep
The fresh wonder of
All that is being made new.

Everything is the same
And yet
Everything has changed.

This is spring.
This is Easter.

When Grace cracks open,
Hope pushes through,
And Joy emerges from the darkness.

This is spring. This is Easter. When Grace cracks open, Hope pushes through, and Joy emerges from the darkness.

Life after Easter

He is risen Not so many days ago We heard the phrase repeated Again and again. “He is risen.”

What does that mean now When the Easter holiday has passed And regular life has begun again?

Is it a phrase that means something on other days? Or is it only for the one time a year When we speak it with conscious awareness Of the celebration?

After Easter, Is Christ now back in the grave? Like a religious jack-in-the-box Waiting for us to turn the crank And set Him free To the tune of “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”?

That’s how we treat Him sometimes.

I don’t think we know what to do with the resurrection.

It sounds all happy and victorious For a day. But go much longer And it can start to sound a little too Supernatural.

“He is risen.”

It is much safer to confine that phrase, Those words, That reminder, To one day Than to keep its thought At the forefront of our minds And force us to wrestle with its weight.

It is a statement that asks a question. If Jesus is risen, then what will we do? And what will Jesus do in response?

If we hide, Cowering in the upper room Of our own fears, Jesus breathes on us And tells us to Receive His Spirit.

If we walk away, Traveling far from what it calls us to, Jesus strolls beside us And quietly explains The Scriptures concerning Him.

If we go back to our old jobs, To the boat that feels constant under our feet, Jesus calls us out, Makes us breakfast, And pushes us To live out our love.

He is risen And He is relentless.

Jesus is calling us to live As a risen people. A people who Find the hiding. Walk with the hurting. Seek after the truth. Deliver grace. Cook breakfast. Live boldly. Love.

He is risen.


"Why have you forsaken me?"

Artist: Edvard Munch Source: WikiPaintings Is all this really necessary? This cross? This consequence borne by Christ?

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

Things are not that bad. Are they?

We can only grasp a fraction Of the immense weight Crashing down upon Jesus That day.

The unimaginable burden Of not only our individual misdeeds Or our personal omissions, But the iniquities And atrocities Of generation upon generation upon generation. The entirety of wickedness Since evil invaded the world.

The sin of human history Creating a distance beyond our understanding.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Christ is forsaken. Dropped in the chasm Of overflowing corpses. The bodies of those who have been massacred. The hundreds murdered every day. Every day. For years stacked upon decades stacked upon centuries.

Christ is forsaken. Adrift in the gulf Of echoing wails. The cries of those sexually assaulted. Every two minutes. Over And over And over again. Shrieking in their violation and pain.

Christ is forsaken. Standing in the abyss Between oppressor and oppressed. Taking the beatings of the millions, Millions, Who have been And are And will be Imprisoned, exploited, and enslaved.

Christ is forsaken. Experiencing the void Of lost generations. Entire people groups wiped out When neighbor turns against neighbor When former friends slaughter one another As nations collapse into genocide.

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

Too much for us to hold. Too vast for us to grasp.

This is the great burden borne by Christ. Taking iniquities beyond imagination Upon the only shoulders broad enough to carry them And loving enough to be crushed by their weight.

From the chasm of evil, For the sake of humanity, Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This is another reflection I wrote for my church's Good Friday service. In honor of this day of waiting, as we sit in the waiting space before the resurrection, it feels appropriate to continue pondering Christ's death. I hope it helps you do that today.