I feel like the past couple months have been a season of God exposing various sins in my life, and it hasn't exactly been pleasant. If you've ever had such a season, you know what I mean. We don't like to have our sins exposed. Most of us would be quite thankful to stuff them in the dark back corner of a closet, never to be seen again (and preferably never to be pulled out in the first place). But as I've thought and prayed and meditated on God's Word in this season, I'm also learning to be thankful for sin exposed.
I'm thankful that God sees my sin. We often shudder at the thought of a God who knows all that we do, who sees into the dark back corner of that closet and brings to light what is hidden there. We like to think it would be better if He could just ignore it, or better yet, be completely oblivious to it. But the fact of the matter is that if God didn't see or care about our sin, we'd be stuck with it with no hope of escape. We can't deal with the sin in our lives or its ramifications. "We hope for light, and behold, darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom. We all growl like bears; we moan and moan like doves; we hope for justice, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far from us..." (see Isaiah 59:9-15a)
BUT, the Lord saw it, and yes, it displeased him that there was no justice. And when he saw the sins of the world, ours included, he also saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede, and so his own arm brought him salvation, and he sent a redeemer to his people. (Isaiah 59:15b-20)
Because God is fully aware of our sin and the condemnation it brings, and because he has compassion, he has also provided a way of escape through his son, Jesus, who died to take the penalty for all the sins I'm aware of, and all the ones that are still hidden from my eyes.
I'm thankful that God makes me aware of my sin. I am, of course, also thankful that he does this little by little and not all at once, as that would likely totally destroy me. But if he were simply to deal with the penalty for my sin and never confront me with its existence in my life, I would have at least two problems. One: I would not ever be fully aware of my desperate need for salvation and the ongoing help of the Holy Spirit. It is at the times when I am most aware of my sinfulness that I am also most aware of the beauty of God's grace and mercy toward me at the Cross. I would rather see my sin for what it truly is than to live in a permanent state of apathy toward my salvation. And two: I would never change. Acknowledgement of sin is the first step in turning away from it. Where I am not aware of wrongdoing, I just keep on running over those same ruts, living life the same way and ignorantly persisting in sin. But even as I pray with the Psalmist that God would forgive my "hidden faults", it is good when I am aware of the sin in my life so that I can pray and work toward change. It is far better to grow in grace and become little by little more like my Saviour than to go through life in "peaceful" obliviousness to my hidden faults. So I also pray, "Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!" (Psalm 39:23, 24)
And I'm thankful that sin exposed and repented of is also removed from me as far as the east is from the west!
I don't enjoy having my sins paraded before me. There are days when the weight of my wrongs feels a little too crushing. But this is not a thing to despise. Just as in seasons of peace, these seasons of battle are God's care for his children, showing us that he is aware of our sin and has fully and finally dealt with it, and then making us abundantly grateful for our salvation and turning us bit by bit into the likeness of his perfectly sinless Son, all to his praise and glory. So I will rejoice in sins exposed, thank God for his kindness that leads to repentance, and by his grace turn around to walk in his ways, to the glory of his name.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Friday, June 06, 2014
Waste Places
Where are the waste places in your life? We all have them, whether they are dry, dusty deserts of secret sins and the apathy that accompanies them, or fields piled high with the rubble and casualties of bad decisions and overt rebellion, or just the wilderness that comes from living in a world damaged by sin in general. And sometimes when we look out over the landscape of our lives and see those waste places to our left and to our right, there can be a helplessness and a hopelessness about the whole thing. "I've been so angry and impatient with my kids the past few months and I'm reaping the fruit of dissension, distrust and general chaos in my home, but when my environment is so lacking in peace, what hope can I possibly have for changing my attitude, or that of my kids?" "I've worked so hard at this marriage but it just seems to get worse, and I make so many mistakes, not to mention the fact that I have no hope of controlling what he does!" "How many times am I going to give in to this same temptation? I just don't know if I will ever change!" "Stuck in a dead end job and I'm so discontent... How is anyone supposed to be joyful in circumstances like these?"
But there is hope and there is help for the waste places of our lives. I love this passage in Isaiah 51:
"Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness, you who seek the Lord:
look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.
Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you;
for he was but one when I called him, that I might bless him and multiply him.
For the Lord comforts Zion; he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of The Lord;
joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song."
Abraham and Sarah had waste places. They had been promised offspring as numerous as the stars and that they would bring blessing to all nations, and here they were barren, trying to get the promise by illegitimate means, laughing at God and quarreling with each other. A seemingly hopeless situation. But God did not leave them in the midst of that desert. Our God is a God who saves. He took an impossible situation, gave them faith, gave them a son, and through them created a people for His praise.
Your sin, the ways you are oppressed, the destruction and the hopelessness in your life are not the end of the story. Ever. We have a God who comforts his people in their waste places, and not just by smoothing things over and planting a few pretty flowers in the midst of the dust. Isaiah says that he makes our wilderness like Eden. J.A. Motyer says it like this: "Like Eden is not simply a figure of beauty and plenty but also one of the absence of the divine curse upon sin. The edict whereby God's fair creation became productive of thorns and thistles (Gen. 3:18) has been revoked and the way opened for wastelands to become places of joy."
And how does he do this? One must read through to the end of Isaiah 53 to see the salvation wrought for us by the Suffering Servant who laid down his abundant life in place of our wasted lives, who exchanged his righteousness for our complete lack of righteousness, and in so doing, has made a way for God to turn even the most destroyed and hopeless parts of our lives into beautiful gardens free of the curse of sin.
"Break forth together into singing, you waste places of Jerusalem,
for The Lord has comforted his people; he has redeemed Jerusalem.
The Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations,
and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God." (Isaiah 52:9-10)
In light of this amazing truth, we are to depart from the waste places of sin, to touch no unclean thing, to pursue purity. But even here, God promises that we shall not go out in haste, in flight, in terror and anxiety, but rather that He himself will go before us and that the God of Israel will be our rear guard. (Isaiah 52:11-12)
God is bigger than our waste places, and he does not leave his people stuck in them forever. There is comfort and redemption for that desert ruin in your life, and when it comes, may you sing the praises of our Great Redeemer so that all the ends of the earth might see his salvation.
But there is hope and there is help for the waste places of our lives. I love this passage in Isaiah 51:
"Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness, you who seek the Lord:
look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.
Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you;
for he was but one when I called him, that I might bless him and multiply him.
For the Lord comforts Zion; he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of The Lord;
joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song."
Abraham and Sarah had waste places. They had been promised offspring as numerous as the stars and that they would bring blessing to all nations, and here they were barren, trying to get the promise by illegitimate means, laughing at God and quarreling with each other. A seemingly hopeless situation. But God did not leave them in the midst of that desert. Our God is a God who saves. He took an impossible situation, gave them faith, gave them a son, and through them created a people for His praise.
Your sin, the ways you are oppressed, the destruction and the hopelessness in your life are not the end of the story. Ever. We have a God who comforts his people in their waste places, and not just by smoothing things over and planting a few pretty flowers in the midst of the dust. Isaiah says that he makes our wilderness like Eden. J.A. Motyer says it like this: "Like Eden is not simply a figure of beauty and plenty but also one of the absence of the divine curse upon sin. The edict whereby God's fair creation became productive of thorns and thistles (Gen. 3:18) has been revoked and the way opened for wastelands to become places of joy."
And how does he do this? One must read through to the end of Isaiah 53 to see the salvation wrought for us by the Suffering Servant who laid down his abundant life in place of our wasted lives, who exchanged his righteousness for our complete lack of righteousness, and in so doing, has made a way for God to turn even the most destroyed and hopeless parts of our lives into beautiful gardens free of the curse of sin.
"Break forth together into singing, you waste places of Jerusalem,
for The Lord has comforted his people; he has redeemed Jerusalem.
The Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations,
and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God." (Isaiah 52:9-10)
In light of this amazing truth, we are to depart from the waste places of sin, to touch no unclean thing, to pursue purity. But even here, God promises that we shall not go out in haste, in flight, in terror and anxiety, but rather that He himself will go before us and that the God of Israel will be our rear guard. (Isaiah 52:11-12)
God is bigger than our waste places, and he does not leave his people stuck in them forever. There is comfort and redemption for that desert ruin in your life, and when it comes, may you sing the praises of our Great Redeemer so that all the ends of the earth might see his salvation.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Swordsmiths and Ravagers
You may be familiar with the verse "No weapon that is fashioned against us will succeed" (or stand, or prevail or prosper, depending on your translation). It's used in a line in more than one Christian song, and it often gets quoted or prayed in situations where the church or individuals within the church feel under attack from other people or evil. And it is a Biblical promise. But I came across this verse this morning as I was reading Isaiah, and was struck by how much richer this promise is in its original context (not sure why I was surprised though; this is usually the case with one-liners from the Bible). I've generally thought of this concept of weapons not being able to stand against us as being simply of the "Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other" kind of assurance. And the element of God being more powerful than any weapon and therefore able to stop any weapon is, of course, true and biblical. But there's more to it than that. God is not just more powerful than any attack against his people.
This little well-quoted portion of a verse comes, first of all, in the larger context of Isaiah 51-55, which is all about God's redemption of his people by means of the "Suffering Servant" of Isaiah 53, the Saviour who was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. In Isaiah 51, in the context of outlining God's redemption of his people, Isaiah speaks for God saying, "My salvation will be forever, and my righteousness will never be dismayed... Fear not the reproach of man, nor be dismayed at their revilings... I, I am he who comforts you; who are you that you are afraid of man who dies?" Paul, looking back at Isaiah from the perspective of Jesus' completed work at the cross, puts it this way in Romans 8: "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?..."
So God is not just more powerful than evil forces and people, he has also shown his absolute commitment to the salvation and protection of his people at the cross of Jesus, and therefore we need not fear. But there is more. This is the immediate context:
"Behold, I have created the smith
who blows the fire of coals
and produces a weapon for its purpose.
I have also created the ravager to destroy;
no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed,
and you shall confute every tongue that rises up against you in judgment.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord
and their vindication from me, declares the Lord."
In Isaiah's flow of thought, those weapons don't come out of nowhere, and they don't come from forces that swirl uncontrolled (but less powerful than God) somewhere out there. God says that he is the creator of both the weapon-maker ("the smith" who makes a weapon for a designated purpose) and the weapon-wielder ("the ravager"). And if he creates them both, then as his creations, they are fully subject to his authority and will. It is not the case that God fights on our behalf against less powerful, but fully-autonomous forces of evil out there. He fights on our behalf against less powerful and ultimately subordinate creatures that as Creator, he knows inside and out and controls for his purposes. And if the smith and the ravager are created by the same powerful God who calls us his people and willingly gave up his Son for us, how could their weapons possibly prevail against us?
This little well-quoted portion of a verse comes, first of all, in the larger context of Isaiah 51-55, which is all about God's redemption of his people by means of the "Suffering Servant" of Isaiah 53, the Saviour who was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. In Isaiah 51, in the context of outlining God's redemption of his people, Isaiah speaks for God saying, "My salvation will be forever, and my righteousness will never be dismayed... Fear not the reproach of man, nor be dismayed at their revilings... I, I am he who comforts you; who are you that you are afraid of man who dies?" Paul, looking back at Isaiah from the perspective of Jesus' completed work at the cross, puts it this way in Romans 8: "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?..."
So God is not just more powerful than evil forces and people, he has also shown his absolute commitment to the salvation and protection of his people at the cross of Jesus, and therefore we need not fear. But there is more. This is the immediate context:
"Behold, I have created the smith
who blows the fire of coals
and produces a weapon for its purpose.
I have also created the ravager to destroy;
no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed,
and you shall confute every tongue that rises up against you in judgment.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord
and their vindication from me, declares the Lord."
In Isaiah's flow of thought, those weapons don't come out of nowhere, and they don't come from forces that swirl uncontrolled (but less powerful than God) somewhere out there. God says that he is the creator of both the weapon-maker ("the smith" who makes a weapon for a designated purpose) and the weapon-wielder ("the ravager"). And if he creates them both, then as his creations, they are fully subject to his authority and will. It is not the case that God fights on our behalf against less powerful, but fully-autonomous forces of evil out there. He fights on our behalf against less powerful and ultimately subordinate creatures that as Creator, he knows inside and out and controls for his purposes. And if the smith and the ravager are created by the same powerful God who calls us his people and willingly gave up his Son for us, how could their weapons possibly prevail against us?
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Great Expectations
I've noticed over the years that Mother's Day is not always such a happy day for me. It started my first Mother's Day, when I woke up boiling with fever and spent the day in bed with my 8 week old. (Of course, it wasn't completely awful; she had just slept through the night for the first time!) And since then, there haven't been so many Mother's Days when I felt relatively relaxed and well-cared-for, able to enjoy a care-free, (mostly) trial-free day.
But Not-So-Happy Mother's Days are not the fault of my family. I get cards, I get help around the house, I get thoughtful gifts (whatever the wallet can manage, and sometimes beyond!). I'm pretty sure that these Not-So-Happy Mother's Days are actually the fault of me, myself and I. Or rather, of my own expectations. My problem is not that things are any worse on this one day of the year than on the others. My problem is my perspective.
There is something about any "appreciation day" that inspires selfish expectations in us. When there is a day on the calendar that gives honour to my role (or my birth, for that matter), my tendency is to assume that others should give me my due honour, and make the day worthy of me and my fantastic, awe-inspiring abilities and service toward those around me. But beyond the sinfulness of these selfish thoughts (though that were enough to condemn me), what I don't tend to realize is that such expectations are a recipe for disaster. When I set a standard in my own mind for what others should do for me or what a day should look like, anything less than my standard immediately looks like an abysmal failure. It won't really matter if my kids spend time on precious homemade cards with sweet messages in choppy handwriting if they don't also follow my (unspoken!) expectation that they stay quiet as little mice until at least 9 am so I can get a nice sleep-in on "my" special day. If my husband makes me breakfast, but doesn't clean up quite so nicely as I would prefer, breakfast in bed becomes a reason to grumble, not to rejoice. And if my standard is that the day be trial-free, even the smallest of trials (and doesn't every day have some?!) will easily seem to be much larger than it actually is. Take my fever, even. I've been sick plenty of other days that I don't recall the dates of. Why do I remember that one? Because it was supposed to be MY day.
Actually, that first Mother's Day is a good case in point. God gave me the oh-so-gracious gift of a full, unbroken night of sleep which I desperately needed, and which, had I had Facebook at the time, would have inspired an excited all-caps status all about the wonders of 9 straight hours of lost consciousness. But instead, because I was sick, and it was Mother's Day, I got stuck in the doldrums of "poor old sick motherly me". I forgot to keep my mind on what was worthy of gratitude and let it sit on my unmet expectations instead.
Do you have great expectations this year? Are you looking for ways that others can serve and appreciate you, or are you keeping your eyes low to the ground, recognizing that you deserve the worst--not just a noisy morning and a messy kitchen, but hell itself, remembering that despite what you really deserve, you have been shown incomprehensible mercy and grace in the person of Jesus, that you have been given the gift of life and piles of other undeserved gifts. I don't want the happiness of Mother's Day (or any other day) to be dependent on what others do for me, on how few troubles the day has, on how much time I'm able to spend doing what I want to do. Rather, I want to have that mind which is ours in Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (No breakfast in bed there!) And it's because of his humility and obedience--not because he clamoured for it or demanded it--that God has exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:2-7)
The day is coming when all our earthly crowns--mothering crowns included--will be laid at the feet of the One who laid aside his crown for us, and there will be no thought for what others should do for our honour, but only what we might do for the honour of our Lord. And in the face of this, even the worst of Mother's Days can be joy-filled ones! How will I live this Mother's Day, and all my other days, with this great expectation?
__________________________________________________________________
Another link on having a happy Mother's Day from GirlTalk
There is something about any "appreciation day" that inspires selfish expectations in us. When there is a day on the calendar that gives honour to my role (or my birth, for that matter), my tendency is to assume that others should give me my due honour, and make the day worthy of me and my fantastic, awe-inspiring abilities and service toward those around me. But beyond the sinfulness of these selfish thoughts (though that were enough to condemn me), what I don't tend to realize is that such expectations are a recipe for disaster. When I set a standard in my own mind for what others should do for me or what a day should look like, anything less than my standard immediately looks like an abysmal failure. It won't really matter if my kids spend time on precious homemade cards with sweet messages in choppy handwriting if they don't also follow my (unspoken!) expectation that they stay quiet as little mice until at least 9 am so I can get a nice sleep-in on "my" special day. If my husband makes me breakfast, but doesn't clean up quite so nicely as I would prefer, breakfast in bed becomes a reason to grumble, not to rejoice. And if my standard is that the day be trial-free, even the smallest of trials (and doesn't every day have some?!) will easily seem to be much larger than it actually is. Take my fever, even. I've been sick plenty of other days that I don't recall the dates of. Why do I remember that one? Because it was supposed to be MY day.
Actually, that first Mother's Day is a good case in point. God gave me the oh-so-gracious gift of a full, unbroken night of sleep which I desperately needed, and which, had I had Facebook at the time, would have inspired an excited all-caps status all about the wonders of 9 straight hours of lost consciousness. But instead, because I was sick, and it was Mother's Day, I got stuck in the doldrums of "poor old sick motherly me". I forgot to keep my mind on what was worthy of gratitude and let it sit on my unmet expectations instead.
Do you have great expectations this year? Are you looking for ways that others can serve and appreciate you, or are you keeping your eyes low to the ground, recognizing that you deserve the worst--not just a noisy morning and a messy kitchen, but hell itself, remembering that despite what you really deserve, you have been shown incomprehensible mercy and grace in the person of Jesus, that you have been given the gift of life and piles of other undeserved gifts. I don't want the happiness of Mother's Day (or any other day) to be dependent on what others do for me, on how few troubles the day has, on how much time I'm able to spend doing what I want to do. Rather, I want to have that mind which is ours in Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (No breakfast in bed there!) And it's because of his humility and obedience--not because he clamoured for it or demanded it--that God has exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:2-7)
The day is coming when all our earthly crowns--mothering crowns included--will be laid at the feet of the One who laid aside his crown for us, and there will be no thought for what others should do for our honour, but only what we might do for the honour of our Lord. And in the face of this, even the worst of Mother's Days can be joy-filled ones! How will I live this Mother's Day, and all my other days, with this great expectation?
__________________________________________________________________
Another link on having a happy Mother's Day from GirlTalk
Monday, May 05, 2014
Hearing the Story With New Ears
"A long time ago, there was a very real man named Jesus, who was also really God, but for many years, he lived on this earth with people like you and me, and was a real live person like you and me... except that unlike you and me, he never, ever did anything bad or wrong. All of his life, he was kind and good and caring and faithful and obedient. But there were people who didn't like him and they wanted to kill him."
I'm telling the Easter story to a group of children, some of whom have heard it many times before and others of whom have never heard it at all.
"Have you ever had a friend or someone who said they loved you, but then they did something that hurt you or made you sad?" Most of the heads nod. "Jesus had friends like that, too. One of them, Judas, wanted to get some money, so he went and told the men who wanted to kill Jesus exactly where they could find him. Jesus knows what it's like to have friends who turn their back on you and hurt you.
"Or has anyone ever made fun of you?" More nodding. "Before the people went to have Jesus killed, they mocked him and teased him because he said he was the King. And even though he really was the King, they thought it was ridiculous, so they made him wear a pretend robe and put a crown--only it was made of thorns--on his head and made him march in front of all the townspeople. Jesus knows what it's like to have people laugh at you, even when you're not doing anything wrong."
One little boy, very concerned, pipes up. "But is Jesus dead now?"
"Hold on," I say. "We're not done with the story... So the soldiers took Jesus and they put him up on a cross. Do you know what a cross is?"
The kids who have heard this story before all say, "Yes." Among the kids who haven't, there is some confusion until I describe it a little and one of them says, "Is that like in Pirates of the Caribbean where those guys are hanging in the background?"
Um, possibly. I have yet to be able to sit through that film. But on I go to describe what happens next. The kids who are familiar with Good Friday don't bat an eye. But I am becoming acutely aware, as I briefly and without great detail reference the nails, the spear, the blood, the agony, that this story is hitting the new kids differently. I am beginning to realize just how horrid this story is. There is no G rating on the Easter narrative. When Jesus finally dies, a girl says, "Do I have to keep listening? This story is scary. And sad." Yes, dear, yes it is.
I have heard the story of Easter countless times. I have told it over and over again. But it's not often that I've been so aware of the darkness of the cross. Rarely have I really felt the confusion over this act of violence against God, against a good man, against a man who understands our deepest griefs and carries our sorrows. And never before have I felt such joyful relief as I arrive at the part of the story when I get to tell the kids that the tomb was EMPTY. That this man who died for our sins though he was sinless, this man who really and truly sympathizes with our pain and weakness, is no longer dead. He was dead, but he is not dead now. He is very much alive and his righteousness is very much ours who believe in His name!
Year after year, month after month, day after day, we reference the cross and the empty tomb. We hear it in sermons, we read it in books, we tell it amongst ourselves. And it can become stale. We can be like the kids who've heard this one a thousand times. Oh yes, Easter. When we celebrate how Jesus died on the cross and rose again. Wait. What?!
I don't want to lose the childlike view of the agonizing old rugged cross, nor the childlike wonder at the resurrection. I want more opportunities to see the story of Easter through the lens of a person who has never heard such a story before, through a child who sees the darkness of it and can't help but jump for joy at the ending (which is really a new beginning). And while I can't ever hear it again for the first time in reality, maybe my own ears can hear it in a fresh way if I keep telling it to those who haven't yet heard.
I'm telling the Easter story to a group of children, some of whom have heard it many times before and others of whom have never heard it at all.
"Have you ever had a friend or someone who said they loved you, but then they did something that hurt you or made you sad?" Most of the heads nod. "Jesus had friends like that, too. One of them, Judas, wanted to get some money, so he went and told the men who wanted to kill Jesus exactly where they could find him. Jesus knows what it's like to have friends who turn their back on you and hurt you.
"Or has anyone ever made fun of you?" More nodding. "Before the people went to have Jesus killed, they mocked him and teased him because he said he was the King. And even though he really was the King, they thought it was ridiculous, so they made him wear a pretend robe and put a crown--only it was made of thorns--on his head and made him march in front of all the townspeople. Jesus knows what it's like to have people laugh at you, even when you're not doing anything wrong."
One little boy, very concerned, pipes up. "But is Jesus dead now?"
"Hold on," I say. "We're not done with the story... So the soldiers took Jesus and they put him up on a cross. Do you know what a cross is?"
The kids who have heard this story before all say, "Yes." Among the kids who haven't, there is some confusion until I describe it a little and one of them says, "Is that like in Pirates of the Caribbean where those guys are hanging in the background?"
Um, possibly. I have yet to be able to sit through that film. But on I go to describe what happens next. The kids who are familiar with Good Friday don't bat an eye. But I am becoming acutely aware, as I briefly and without great detail reference the nails, the spear, the blood, the agony, that this story is hitting the new kids differently. I am beginning to realize just how horrid this story is. There is no G rating on the Easter narrative. When Jesus finally dies, a girl says, "Do I have to keep listening? This story is scary. And sad." Yes, dear, yes it is.
I have heard the story of Easter countless times. I have told it over and over again. But it's not often that I've been so aware of the darkness of the cross. Rarely have I really felt the confusion over this act of violence against God, against a good man, against a man who understands our deepest griefs and carries our sorrows. And never before have I felt such joyful relief as I arrive at the part of the story when I get to tell the kids that the tomb was EMPTY. That this man who died for our sins though he was sinless, this man who really and truly sympathizes with our pain and weakness, is no longer dead. He was dead, but he is not dead now. He is very much alive and his righteousness is very much ours who believe in His name!
Year after year, month after month, day after day, we reference the cross and the empty tomb. We hear it in sermons, we read it in books, we tell it amongst ourselves. And it can become stale. We can be like the kids who've heard this one a thousand times. Oh yes, Easter. When we celebrate how Jesus died on the cross and rose again. Wait. What?!
I don't want to lose the childlike view of the agonizing old rugged cross, nor the childlike wonder at the resurrection. I want more opportunities to see the story of Easter through the lens of a person who has never heard such a story before, through a child who sees the darkness of it and can't help but jump for joy at the ending (which is really a new beginning). And while I can't ever hear it again for the first time in reality, maybe my own ears can hear it in a fresh way if I keep telling it to those who haven't yet heard.
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