There’s a chance I may offend you. There’s a possibility you won’t care. There’s a point at which you may roll your eyes and scroll your screen. But I want to share something special to me. The reason I do so, at risk of wasting 7 minutes of the weekend, is because you too are special to me.
I admit that sometimes when I see the picture of a wooden cross on my Facebook feed, I keep the pace of the scroll, maybe even pick up the pace to move past more quickly. Sometimes the positioning of words indicates there is a Bible verse on a social media post and I don’t want to stop. Instead I choose to move on.
It’s not just the insufficiency of time that makes me skip past. It’s this inner stirring that I’m better than that. That somehow I don’t want to look like that, be associated with that. Part of it is the ancient fonts with the old fashioned images. More than that, it’s probably the disconnection my life feels with these words and icons. There’s something screaming loudly, that this is not relevant.
Yet another part of my heart faintly stands to attention. There is a longing for something more. My heart knows and my mind sobrely acknowledges this truth. Deep down I want something deep. My heart flutters in anticipation when I have a meaningful conversation, when I hold my child, when I mindfully eat a lovely meal. These times capture my heart. Especially though when the discussion changes, my child screams and the food turns cold, I find that I’m not just longing for the opposite, I long for more. There is a wholeness that I’m missing. I’m not saying that everything sucks. But things aren’t perfect either. Even a perfectionist like myself will regularly buckle trying to ensure everything is okay. I do appreciate the good things of life. My body instinctively wonders where these blessings have come from. In my wiser moments, I concede they are not of my own accord.
We all know the story. God makes world. God makes man. God makes woman. Man and woman both stick it to God. There is the fall. And like dominos we continue in this fallen story. Until…until Jesus enters. He fixes the broken chasm. He restores the relationship. We may sit in awe and thanks or keep sticking it to Him. The very nature of not giving a second thought to Him, is neglecting the truest part of who we are.
I know this story. Sometimes the repetition of this story turns me off the central character. Sometimes I stupidly believe I’m the central character. Often people only heed this story because of some sort of fear of how it will end.
But for me, my forever life has started. I fumble around in my thoughts entertaining the idea that I can go solo. Entertaining the idea I can count on money, family, friends and time. And whilst I can in a way, I also know full well the uncertainty, instability and loss that accompanies these.
Strangely, the end point is not death. Equally the start point is not death. Now is important. Now is relevant.
I probably will continue to be naturally inclined to flinch when I see messages about faith, hope and love with the background picture of a brown leather Bible. You may too. You may only utter His name when you’re searching for a word to nail home a point. But sometimes we need a reminder of other nails in history and His bloodshed for us.
I’m definitely not advocating that life is any easier. It’s not. At times it seems harder. But Jesus came so we could experience the fullness of real life. When you’re tired of the story and you’re sick of us followers this Easter, please know that Jesus can be more than a swear word. Remember the central character and embrace his invitation to live with Him.