Passion-ately Simple

All this Lenten season I wanted to be passionate about the Passion.  I planned to read, to write and walk myself through the drama of it all once more.  The process would yield  profound observations and insights to share.  What went wrong?

It is Resurrection Sunday, the clock is ticking and I am at a loss for words. It is not that I am empty, quite the contrary.  Yet the fullness is different - profound and childlike and my pen seems strangely hesitant.

I am much like our three month old puppy who we took outside of the concrete jungle this week for the first time in his life.  Losing all sense of familiarity and comfortableness as quickly as our truck was eating up the highway, left him regurgitating yesterday's meal all over his master.

Finally set free on wild, perhaps even holy ground and with some reservation, he started to nonetheless enthusiastically expand his horizons. Whenever the thrill of new ground became too much for his senses he would run back to home base.  Yet each time he journeyed outward he pushed his old limits further beyond until he had claimed much of the new turf available.  His world became not only larger but freer.  Since he accompanied us on this out of town trip, he will never be completely satisfied within city confines again.

However, what was most amusing was the huge rawhide bone we had brought along as his toy.  Dare I liken it to our spiritual treasures and gifts that the Lord abundantly provides for us along the way?  The pup instinctively knew that it should be buried and seasoned in the rich earth, hidden from thieves until he had need of it.  While he got quite good at hiding it, he never did master the art of finding it once more.  Time and again the rawhide bone became a distant memory or forgotten treasure while he returned to his master fully expectant of  a fresh and free handout.

Recently I have found myself on such unfamiliar spiritual turf, beyond concrete city limits and out in wild country.  While I enjoy the newness of it all I do have a habit of regurgitating yesterday's lessons learned in urban confines and expecting them to work with untamed territory.  Much like the children C.S. Lewis created in the Chronicles of Narnia I can feel myself nearing a magical world  just out of my reach.   I swing my arms wildly trying to grab hold.  I can taste the reality just beyond.  The Lord is so close, but I can't quite grasp this greater reality in faith and back I go to safe, known territory.

Nonetheless, my heart refuses to let go of what it knows to be true.  There is more!  It is just around the corner.  It is  good!  It is God!  He is risen.  Resurrection power is up for grabs.  Hallelujah.  That's what I wanted to sing today.  I wanted it to ring throughout Easter traditions.  I wanted the Body of Christ, his people, to come together in community and shout it from the mountain tops because I believe it to be true.

There were glimpses, moments when joy took hold and we knew that what we sang, what we celebrated was Truth itself, the resurrected Christ.  But mostly just as we got Him out of the grave, just at that point when collectively we could have been changed by the power of life over death, we hesitated and dare I say buried Him alive - put Jesus back on familiar turf like that rawhide bone which my dog is still puzzling over.  Where did it go?   Where did I last tuck my risen Christ away?

What does it mean for Jesus to have returned from the grave?  It means resurrection power has been set loose.  That power, an unrestrained love pushes daisies up from the ground in celebration.  It yields new adventures just when we think we have things all figured out.  It opens doors that cannot be closed.  It surprises us with joy.  It defeats death. It changes completely what it means to live and to die.  It gives us the open ending we wanted, an eternal substance.

I close my eyes and let the world end as I have known it.  I reflect on a cross that allowed evil to have its way as never before.  I let all hope die.  I sit in the darkness of the buried Christ.  And then in the wee hours of the morning I gather my spices together and wonder who will roll the stone away so that I can say good-bye to all I ever dreamed.  It is a heavy journey to the tomb. 

It is not so much that I discover upon arrival that the stone has been rolled and the tomb is empty.  It is that question directed at me that transforms my life and I am forever changed, redeemed and set free,  "Why do you seek the living among the dead?"

He is risen indeed.  Hallelujah!