An Easter Reboot

resurrection

“The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity and held safe in an everlasting embrace… We must dare to opt consciously for our chosenness and not allow our emotions, feelings, or passions to seduce us into self-rejection” (Henri Nouwen).

The stone was rolled away from the door, not to permit Christ to come out, but to enable the disciples to go in” (Peter Marshall).

Sometimes, it takes Easter to get my mind refocused. Like so many of you, I can get off track so very easily and forget who I am and what I’m here for. I need to be reminded that I am indeed the beloved, the chosen child of God. My purpose is to live that out as best I can, to become what God has already declared me to be.

I take Easter for granted because I already know how the story ends. Or at least I think I do.

In fact, Easter isn’t an end, but a beginning. C. S. Lewis in his book, The Last Battle, said that all of history was merely a title page and a preface. Eternity is the real beginning of the book, where each chapter is better than the last and the story is truly neverending.

Easter reminds me that my forgiveness might have been free for me, but not free. it might have not cost me anything, but it was not without cost. I don’t need to forget that my forgiveness cost God the very highest price and is the most extravagant gift ever given in history. I don’t need to take that lightly or for granted.

Easter also reminds me that failure isn’t final, that goodbyes aren’t forever, and that truth and faith and love and hope all survive the grave and come out stronger on the other side. I guess that’s why I love it so much.

 


 

Blessed are the mourners

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).

It seems like we as a society don’t really do well with mourning. We would rather be entertained and amused. Sadness and grief are things that we move past as quickly as possible, and those that don’t are looked upon unfavorably, like “Why can’t they just get over it?”

The Message puts it this way: “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

How are we to mourn and what are we to mourn for?

I think we mourn not as those who have no hope, but as those who do. Our sadness is a sadness that is based in the hope of a better day yet to come. Our grief is a grief that has joy at its core– joy that whatever we’ve lost will be restored to us a thousand-fold. We mourn knowing that one day we will rejoice and sing– and laugh– over the momentary afflictions that have been far outweighed by an eternal hope of glory.

What do we mourn for? We mourn over the loss of loved ones, because death is certain for every single one of us. We mourn over the wasted lives around us. We mourn over so many hopes we had that were unfulfilled and dreams we had that were dashed against the rocks of reality. We mourn over sin in the world, and what how it mars and wrecks and leaves a ruin in so many lives. We weep for what God in Jesus wept for– that so many will live and die and pass into eternity separated from Him and never knowing what real hope, faith and love look like. They will never know that God had a better, more abundant life in store for them if they would only say yes to Him.

It’s good to mourn for these things, but also to rejoice that all these things will one day end. Jesus has already overcome all the things that cause sadness and grief.

I would like to close this with words from Rich Mullins that may not quite fit, but I loved them so much that I had to add them here:

“It is the living who mourn at a funeral– not the dead. We mourn because the lives of the dead who made our own more lively, and since we are (or had been) so knit together, the loss of another’s strand will eventually cause our own unravelling. Fellowship is the mingling of threads that make up a fabric, and only in a fabric do we have some kind of meaningfulness.”

As always, I believe. Help my unbelief.