We live in a mysterious universe. Sometimes the things that seem most obviously true are found to be hopelessly mistaken, and the things that seem most obviously misguided are found to be more true and more relevant to understanding the universe and our place in it than we could have possibly imagined. Sometimes the totally incredible is found to be true, and that which seems obviously real and true to any rational person ends up being fake and false. Things are not what they seem, but we open ourselves to the possibility of discovering the truth if we dare to question the obvious and to risk being seen as foolish. Please don’t write off the resurrection of Jesus from the grave as a bit of misguided religious zeal or wishful superstitious thinking that should be regarded as a relic of the past and archived in the vault of ideas that no longer seem plausible or relevant, for that is the greatest mistake that we could possibly make. If we will dare to open the door to the possibility that it might have actually happened the way the New Testament describes, we may discover that it’s really true, that what Christians have been declaring for 2,000 years is indeed what happened, and that it is the single most important and relevant act that has ever occurred in time and space. As for me, I cannot overlook a teaching that proposes a solution to the problems of evil, futility and death. I have come to believe that it is all true, and that is why I celebrate!
“In him was life; and the life was the light of men”. (John 1:4) “Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life”. (John 8:12)
0 Comments
Reposting from April 15, 2017:
And now when the even was come, because it was the preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathaea, an honourable counsellor, which also waited for the kingdom of God, came, and went in boldly unto Pilate, and craved the body of Jesus. And Pilate marvelled if he were already dead: and calling unto him the centurion, he asked him whether he had been any while dead. And when he knew it of the centurion, he gave the body to Joseph. And he bought fine linen, and took him down, and wrapped him in the linen, and laid him in a sepulchre which was hewn out of a rock, and rolled a stone unto the door of the sepulchre. And Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses beheld where he was laid. (Mark 15:42-47) Saturday. Could it be that He is really dead? There are no words for this. There is no right way to feel. There is no way to frame this that makes sense. There is no happy ending. It’s just painful. That’s all. What happens when the one you put your hope in dies and you are left alone? There is no darker hopelessness than when hope itself dies. There is no consolation. There is no encouragement. It’s just so dark… so very dark. That’s just the way it is. The world is still and silent. He died and was buried, and the devastation is unspeakable. Hope died, and the silence is deafening. The hands that gave life now lie lifeless in the tomb, the lifeless hands of a lifeless corpse. The people begin to sing their funeral dirge. There’s nothing else left to do. Creation groans in suspended animation, caught somewhere between death and life. The earth waits. The universe holds its breath. Saturday is a day of waiting and wondering. It’s a day of holding one’s breath. It’s a day of grieving over unfulfilled hopes and frustrated goals and broken dreams and unanswered prayers. It’s a day of straining our eyes, looking for a point of light in the darkness. It’s a day of straining our ears, listening for the faint sound of a new drumbeat. It’s a day of passing through the valley of the shadow of death, and learning that the shadow of death is not the same as death itself. It’s a day of realizing that the journey is not over, though now it must take a different turn. It’s a day for learning that our value lies in being created by God and in being loved by God and in being who we are, not by what we think we ought to accomplish for God or for humanity. It’s a day for honest doubt and a day of reassessment. It’s a day when we come to learn that even if we lose our grip on God, God still holds onto us, and we realize that that is enough. It’s a day of walking by faith when we cannot see, and of trying to catch a glimpse of the God we can neither see nor hear, and maybe we begin to question the very things that we were afraid to question earlier. It’s a day of giving ourselves permission to face our deepest doubts and our deepest fears. It’s a day for recognizing that we are not always right and we are not always strong, and that deep inside we are weak and broken and vulnerable, and that’s OK. In fact, it’s beautiful. That’s when we discover our own humanity. That’s when discover how much we have in common with the rest of the human race, and that’s when we catch a glimpse of what God had in mind when he created humanity in his own image. That’s when we realize that only what is broken can be brought to God for healing, and that is the beginning of healing and wholeness and hope and genuine community. Hope and beauty and new birth find their roots in the valley of the shadow of death. After all, it’s the valley of the shadow of death but it’s not death. It’s Saturday. |
About Joe Scordato
Archives
March 2024
Categories |