Hastily written thoughts... Holy Week actually came and found me this year rather than the other way around. I'm sad to say that until recently, I have allowed my time to be preoccupied with all kinds of other (good) things to the point where Easter has really been off somewhere in the back of my mind. Fortunately, the goodness of God prevails once again and has drawn my attention back to himself during an especially holy time.
A little more than a week ago, I felt this strong inward desire to spend time with scripture, but being pretty terrible currently at balancing family, work, freelance stuff, band stuff, etc., I have been pretty slack in reading my bible. It then occurred to me that we live in the 21st century and that there must exist some way to listen to the bible while I do other things (like try to make our yard less of an embarrassment to the family). I found a free audio version on Amazon, and though it's dramatized (i.e., kind of cheesy), it's been great. I've been listening to it in the yard and in my car, and I'm glad to have it.
So while that's been going on, it's also been a really strange week. Sunday evening I spent some time at the hospital where a family member needed surgery for a broken ankle. This family member wrestles with an alcohol addiction and managed to nearly bleed to death at home alone (thankfully my brother was close to his phone). On Monday, I helped get this person home, and I cleaned up the blood that was spread all throughout the living room and through the kitchen. It was kind of surreal, like I was in a Law & Order episode or something.
Also on Monday, I got word that a great friend's mother AND grandmother had both passed away within a few hours of each other. I called my friend, and it was very clear how hard this was for him. It kind of sucked that I was so far away and couldn't give him a hug in real life, so I made plans and drove down Wednesday night for the funeral on Thursday morning. I'm sad for my friend and for his loss and for the holes that are left when those we love are gone. I have these kinds of holes, too.
I spent Thursday afternoon on the road and got home to find my neighbor and his little daughter playing in our backyard with our kids. Making pleasantries, I asked him how things were going, and because my neighbor is straightforward (which I love about him), his answer was,"Well, my wife took all her stuff and left. I thought she had just gone out on an errand or something, but she's gone. We have a custody hearing tomorrow." What do you say to that? Just an otherwise normal Thursday with a guy in my yard whose marriage just fell apart watching our kids play with sidewalk chalk.
So here we are on Good Friday, and through the trips to relative's homes to cities across Georgia and back to my own home, I have listened to recordings of the biblical accounts of Jesus' betrayal and crucifixion - albeit, kind of cheesy versions - in my car all week. All the while, without consciously doing so on my own, Easter has come to me in my circumstances, and as I got ready for work this morning, I thought some things.
Anxiety. Depression. Addiction. Death. Divorce. Bitterness. Loneliness. These things are present in a world in which sin entered and broke the perfect mirror that humanity was supposed to be - a clear reflection of God's own image. Now, when I suggest that the world is sinful, I do not mean that my family member is an alcoholic simply because he or she is sinful or that sin directly killed my friend's mother; no, I would not suggest this. It's worse than this, actually, for there is no easy, tidy explanation for the destruction sin levies on anyone. In some ways, it would almost seem just if you could point at someone with certainty and say, "Oh, well,it's clear he was punished for all the horrible things he did. He stole from others; he beat his children, whatever." You know, that's karma, we say. "You get what you deserve." "You reap what you sow." But in truth, there is no such thing as karma and no existential tit-for-tat and sin offers us no convenient explanation.
For all have fallen short, and we all share in the worst that has come about from the day sin entered the world. So you share in the repercussions of my sins, and I in yours, and if we all got what deserved, there would be no kind eulogies from which to remember any one of us. So you reap what I've sown, and I reap what you've sown and we reap what we've sown. We don't like the word "sin," because we think it means "bad things" as determined by others; to me it's more like cancer, which is much harder to point a finger at.
But while we all share together in a broken and fallen place, take heart, the scriptures say, for there is a power greater than this.
Because of the events of my week, I think I feel this Good Friday is heavier than the previous ones. The culture of this broken place brought about the death of a Savior because of jealousy and envy and spite and lust for power and misunderstanding and fear and greed. But I take heart, because though all was made wrong on the day we crucified God himself, he himself made a way when no one else could.
And despite the spit I cast on him myself - and despite the addiction and depression and loneliness and pain and suffering of this darkened place - there is an Easter on the other side of our Good Fridays whenever we find them and a God who has gone through the depths himself and simply says to me, "You will not find the living among the dead, but come to me that I may give you life." I'm paraphrasing there.
So I say, thank God. Thank God. Thank God! Praise be to God, who was, and is, and is to come.
He is risen! (well, almost... Sunday's coming).