Fear and the Resurrection

Jesus is dead. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome head to the tomb to anoint the body of their so-called Messiah. They had been with Jesus for years now, taking care of him, praying with him, learning from him. He was dead, and so they came to perform their last act of mercy. When they arrived the tomb was open and in the grave a man in white sat, waiting to tell them that Jesus has been raised. The Gospel of Mark then says:

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

They were afraid. Jesus wasn't supposed to be crucified, but he was. Jesus was supposed to be dead, but he wasn't. Fear struck them. Terror held them. What is this that the dead may walk? They had seen the blind given sight. They knew about the feeding of the thousands. Miracles were performed, even Lazarus stood up.

But this was a different animal. Jesus was dead. They had seen him, his body limp and his spirit broken. They watched while the cross was rudely torn down and the nails pounded out. They followed the procession as Joseph of Arimathea wrapped his body and laid their Lord in a tomb. They saw the stone rolled tight. Jesus was dead.

And now a man in white says he is raised. The possibilities are only now beginning to dawn. Be afraid, Jesus is risen.

What you Have

In our contemporary culture we drive to focus on what we don't have. We don't have the money, the job, the right body, and the 'stuff' to make us happy. Our deprivation, no matter how small, becomes our focus. In the season of Lent we are challenged to acknowledge what we truly hold. What we lack is of dust. But what we really hold is eternal. In Lent we say what we have is not mine, but a gift. I think these thoughts as a see this video below. Patrick and his father understand what they have been given, and the possibilities in that gift.

Possibilities

In my last post I talked about how this season of Lent reminds us that we have nothing but God. That nothingness brings both fear and hope. Our fear lies in our nakedness before God. What we've done, what we've accomplished means nothing. God sees us as we are.

Yet, God is not bound by time. He sees us as we were, are, and shall be. Because in that nothingness we have hope. It is a hope found in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. In that hope we know we are resurrected. In that hope we know that we are broken, but also redeemed. Through Jesus God sees us as he intended, fully human in relationship with him.

Out of the nothingness God fashion the possible. We are stripped naked, so we can start anew. With God we are not constrained by what we possess. With God our past is not our destiny.

Lent Thoughts

Last Wednesday we slide into Lent. Every year Lent seems to creep up on me. I wade through the darkness of January and February, gathering strength for a new year. Then, as the days begin to noticeably lengthen Lent arrives, reminding me of what I am and who I am.

What am I? I am dust, born of the debris of exploding stars, the decayed remains of long ago flowers, and the minerals forged in the heat of the earth. I hold no special place, but like the sparrow or willow tree I was born of this earth and to this earth I shall return.

Who am I? I am a child of God, given life by God to follow Jesus. A spirit resides within me that cannot be so easily vanquished. I am resurrected.

And so Lent reminds me of both. At first it says, remember, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, that is your fate. But then it whispers, look ahead, see the coming dawn, the light on the horizon. For I am dust, but Christ is resurrected and I am with him. And during this season of Lent we hold both our past and our future in our hands.

We are dust, but we are resurrected. The pain is real, but Sunday’s coming. Amen

The Creek: March 8

The ice has broken on the creek. For three months the ice strangled my little bit of the creek, turning flowing water into a coughing stream. Six-inch ice shelves still hug the shore, but spring is here. And with spring comes thoughts of death. For my part of the world was death, but now life is on the breeze. The trees are beginning to breath again. The bush branches contain a bit more strength as I plow through the forest. The death of the winter has passed, and though much has perished, life all around me has survived.

With these thoughts I continue my Lenten journey. With mud replacing snow I remember my initial state. For dust we are, and dust we shall return. But before that return, life has come and will come to those muddy puddles, as life has come to me. Around me I see tentative shoots of green amidst the stubborn banks of snow. Warmth and cold, life and death, wrapped together within and without.