Easter 2024: There's More

Maybe I was dropped on my head as a child, or maybe I stayed on the Tilt-A-whirl too long, but for as long as I can remember I’ve believed there was something more to life than what I could see. Waterfalls and waves whispered the secret, sticks and rocks pointed me beyond. Sunrises and sunrises invited me to imagine what lay beyond the horizon, and each authentic conversation or genuine act of kindness suggested what the church could be.

Sometimes, the mirror I carry grows too big for me to see beyond its frame, the worldly sounds drown out the songs of the birds, but then something happens, someone comes along, and reminds me that beyond it all there’s more.

Of all that’s been said of Easter, all that’s been written or sung, this is the truth that lies beyond it all. Beyond the dramatic events of Holy Week – the triumphant entrance, confrontational teachings, solemn meal, heartbreaking betrayal, let alone the arrest, denials, and death – there lies an empty tomb. The body’s gone, a blood-stained cloth the only reminder of what happened. But it’s in that emptiness that God is most visible, in the silence of that morning that God speaks loudest: “Death’s not the end. There’s more!”

            Thanks be to God.

Lent 2024: God's Rennovation

It was there one day, all but gone the next. One of the finest homes in our neighborhood was purchased by a family with infinite means, and the wrecking crew arrived within minutes of the closing. They (supposedly) hadn’t told their intentions to a soul. It needed too much work, the owners later explained to our local paper. It was easier to start over.

As devastating as it’s been for our town, it’s also seared a lesson into my soul - one particularly fitting as we approach the final days of Lent.

Lent is a season designed by the Church to allow followers to dig deep and address unhealthy spiritual issues as we prepare for Easter. Whether it be greed, jealousy, or some other character defect (as they are called in 12-step recovery circles) or deadly sins (as the Church calls them), Lent is the season to go inside and look at such things. The work is as important, as it is difficult. A person can become overwhelmed and want to quit, but the torn down house down the street has reminded me of a more excellent way.

Yes, there are things within that need repair, but the house is structurally sound. Regardless of all the ways we fall short of who we think we ought to be, the psalmist reminds us we are marvelously made. Being human means we’re imperfect, but it doesn’t mean there’s nothing good in us, nothing God can’t use, nothing He can’t redeem . . . if we let Him.

More than once in my life, I’ve wanted to quit. I’ve wanted to call the wrecking crew and be done with it all, but that’s the easy way out. God’s more interested in renovation than destruction, and we need to be sure we “don’t leave before the miracle happens,” as my friends in recovery circles often chant.

We’re on a journey, and we need to see it through. The end is not a cross; it’s an empty tomb. It’s not death; it’s a renovated, or resurrected, life.

Lent 2024: Ten Steps

A friend recently told me about something a legendary golfer does when he hits a bad shot. He allows himself ten steps to think about the shot, then thinks of it no more. This ten-step approach to dealing with bad shots is so simple, and yet it’s enormously difficult to do - in golf and in life.

I can’t begin to tell you how often I’ve hit bad golf shots. Unlike the wise golfer who only stews over his bad shot for ten steps, I’ve thought about mine for days and ruined wonderful days on beautiful courses. To learn the ten-step rule would be a significant improvement in my game. It would improve the way I live my life.

When I look back, I can see countless mistakes I’ve made over my life. Some have cost me dearly. But what I mourn almost as much as the mistakes themselves is how long I’ve thought about them. I have used those mistakes to bludgeon myself over and over again. Had I learned the ten-step rule when I was young, maybe I’d have used those ten steps to think about my mistakes and then move on. Instead, I’ve carried those mistakes with me and missed much of the joy of other “shots.”

Some people decide they’d rather carry the mistakes of others than their own. They do so long past the ten-step limit. Stewing in the waters of resentment and rage, they miss the freedom of letting things go and getting on with this game called “life.”

It’s time to try something new.

In Lent, we’ve looked at our lives - our fears, wounds, and mistakes. It’s time to practice the ten-step rule and let our mistakes, and the mistakes of others, go.

There’s a happy, joyous, and free life waiting for us all. It only takes ten steps to get there.