The time for dying eggs is here. The kids look forward to finding candy to put in baskets of plastic grass. We celebrate the coming of spring, new life on branches, in holes, and in coops. Most of all we celebrate new life for our mortal bodies. We can do this because one went before.
We celebrate in hope of what we don’t see. Who hopes for what he already sees? I no longer hope to have children someday because they’re here. Now I hope they will grow to be adults that remember to be childlike.
People with hope seem foolish. Others want proof of what they’re waiting for. That’s not hope at all.
This week we embark, or continue, on the most dangerous journey of all. Maybe I should say, “risky”?
When you hope in Christ and his resurrection, you hope
. . . to follow Him to a new heaven and earth.
. . . for all pain and oppression to be gone, all tears dried.
. . . the sins done against you to be forgotten, by you;
and sins you’ve done to others, forgotten by them.
. . . for no more toil and tiredness, and fruit from your labor to flourish. Everyone succeeds at what he puts his hand to. No more weeds.
. . . for laughter and light at every turn.
. . . to see children play with lions . . .
. . . to be beautiful; beauty not spoiled or ripped away by the covetousness of a beholder.
. . . that all nations are there, a multi-faceted diamond reflecting the glory of their King.
My list is too short, but there’s a lot wrapped up in this hope.
On this earth, the ones who are most pitied when life cuts them short are children. They’re most pitied because of what they had ahead of them. It’s sad when anyone is mistreated, and when they die, but one who has lived out their years isn’t pitied as much as a child who had lots more living left to do.
It’s a risk to be like a child this holiday, surrounded by candy and eggs, waiting to hatch a new skin of our own in a new world. Will you take the greatest risk with me and dream of all the resurrection could mean?
My faith does not hang on a cross. It hangs above the hole of the tomb where the stone has been rolled away. It hangs on the hope that the God of galaxies beyond reach is preparing a new place for me, lots of living left to be had. After I’ve been laid to rest in this soil, I will be called to wake again to things I’ve never imagined. And if I’m wrong about that . . .
. . . and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins.
Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished.
If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied.
I Corinthians 15: 17-19