To the Editor,
As we finally emerge from this unusually long, cold winter and start to see the blooming daffodils and tulips, we look toward the resurgence of life after "death."
On Easter, or Resurrection Sunday as some call it, we celebrate Christ's victory over suffering and death. His return to life and conquest of the tomb, which validated His ministry, and brought us all to the possibility of eternal life through Christ our Lord who, after facing fear so great that it caused him to sweat blood, resigned Himself to His destiny and purpose, and willingly died a horrible, demeaning death on the cross for all of us; for you, and for me.
I usually write about political issues, I know; however, politics is cynical. It is plastic, pre-packaged, managed and manipulated. Many say the same of religion, and they're right.
Religion, too, is - or can be - all of those things, as well. Faith, however, is not.
Politics is also temporary, as times, issues and positions change. Faith is not.
Faith is, or should be, eternal, no matter how humanity screws things up with its gritty adherence to ritual and dogma, so often, sadly, wielded in the name of ignorance, or for personal power and control over the individual. Many people point out the "evils" of Christianity; how much suffering it's caused, over the centuries.
Once again, they're right; however, I feel their blame is misplaced. Much has been done by flawed humanity, in the name of Christ; things of which He would not have approved. Don't blame the faith for the misguided, ill-considered - or well-considered, for that matter - misdeeds of the weak, petty faithful. There is no Jesus in the Westboro Baptist Church.
This is not why Christ came. He came to be the bridge between His loving Father and we, God's unworthy, prodigal children. That's all; He came for us.
A life lived for Christ is difficult. It wars with the primal nature with which we were born, and calls us to a higher, better condition. I fail there, a lot.
I do belong, and go, to a church, but I'm not as devout as I should be, with that one hour a week.
Too often, the house on Sunday morning is too quiet, too relaxing, the coffee, too good; the show I'm watching, too enjoyable; the knowledge that tomorrow, I'll be back at work too depressing, to want to get moving. Yet, I know I should, because He sacrificed His life for me, and here I sit, chuckling as Moe slaps both Larry and Curly (or Shemp) in one motion, or watching, rapt, as Doctor Who emerges from the T.A.R.D.I.S. into some new adventure. I should go to church, and worship Him for saving me from my sins. Often, I do. But my heart is there, nonetheless, and though I know my body should be, too, He knows He has my heart, and that's enough, for the moment.
Happy Easter, folks. Jesus loves you; He is Risen. God bless.