Easter people...

I liked today's sermon at church. We are "Easter people living in a Good Friday world." The entire sermon can be heard by checking out the church website - www.newbergfriendschurch.org.

Anyway, my mind seemed to center on one portion of the message. This is, indeed, a Good Friday world. While there is much joy and beauty to be had here it also is, without question, a place of frustration, doubt, pain, tragedy, loneliness, brokenness...the list could go on and on. Are we spared from the reality of this world simply because we believe in Christ and have become one of his children? Many leaders in the "evangelical" Christian world would want us to believe that. But no...we are in this world, and bad stuff happens...even to us. However, Christ has promised to walk with us through this journey here, and we have true hope in the eternal life of beauty and peace that he has prepared for us.

All that to say...sitting in my pew this morning, I couldn't help but compare the pastor's words to experiences in my life. Just a very few years ago I was in a place of complete desolation due to life circumstances. I was engulfed by grief, despair, confusion...and found myself in a downward spiral. I must confess that at that time I wasn't listening well for Christ's voice. I was completely shattered, and didn't have the heart to care much. The Good Friday world had come to roost in my spirit.

In the sermon, however, Gregg went on to describe Mary's grief as she had just lost her Lord to a horrific death on the cross. She too was consumed...perhaps in some ways similar to my situation. She stumbled to the tomb to grieve her loss...she even eventually saw Christ standing in front of her...but in the midst of her pain she couldn't recognize him. It wasn't until he spoke her name..."Mary"...that she finally saw him.

I find myself picturing Christ during my life situation described above. I can envision him sitting patiently nearby, lovingly and somewhat painfully watching me struggle, unable to get a word in edgewise. However, I can also imagine a time when my pain began to ebb - when I slowed my "flailing in the water" long enough to hear him speak my name - "Denise". He was there all the time.