Defining moments

 
We all have been reeling from the radical changes that have hit us in the past five weeks.

Strange as it may seem, the difficulties, the demise of health and economy, the lockdowns, began about the time of Ash Wednesday, February 26 this year, the beginning of Lent.

Lent now has a new tangible definition that we will never forget.  Lent is traditionally preparation for Easter through prayer and repentance and self-denial, so that when Easter is celebrated, we realize the significance of Christ's suffering for us.  Without Good Friday, there is no Easter.

This year, Lent became not just a serious contemplation about suffering, but a daily visible reminder of the deep suffering around the world.  The often trivial handling of Lent -- giving up chocolate and other indulgent behaviors-- seemed so shallow in the light of the suffering before us and grasping the entirety of this broken world.  There is not one of us who has not been touched in some way by this.  Each of us was compelled in our own ways, to push back the darkness as much as we are able by staying at home to decrease not just unnecessary exposure for us and others, but to increase life.

Every life is sacred.  Every day of staying home, every hour of lockdown, opens up another hospital bed, makes available yet another ventilator, and saves another life.  This is far beyond inconvenience and mere momentary affliction, but life itself.  I really struggled with "What can I do?" Stay home. That is the most loving way we can respond.  It is a matter of life and death.  And that life may not be your own.

I have thought almost continually this year during Lent about those selfless servants in desperate conditions in hospitals and clinics, putting themselves right in the path of this deadly invisible foe named Covid.  May we be totally aware of, pray for, and thank these heroes, the exhausted doctors and nurses and support staff who have given up everything to save innumerable lives.

Night after night, the news stations broadcast the sheer intensifying numbers, but the medical professionals know names and faces.  Those who are extremely sick, struggling for breath, and dying are people -- someone's sister, child, dad, cousin, neighbor -- not a statistic.

As we approach Easter this Sunday, may we be reminded of Jesus who came to die to save us from our own brokenness.  He suffered and gave his life, because He loves each one of us.  This is not a religious belief, but a life-changing personal relationship.

On Palm Sunday, Jesus entered Jerusalem to shouts of "Hosanna!"  which does not mean "Woohoo! Go Jesus!"  But "Lord, save us!"   Jesus was not coming to conquer the ensuing political domination, but to die and conquer the enslavement of our own selfishness, which is what sin is.  On the cross, Christ redeemed those shouts of "Lord, save us." 

And on Easter, Hosanna was translated into Hallelujah.  Christ rose from the grave to prove He is who He said He is.  "He is not here.  He is risen, as He said." (Matthew 28. 6)  Good Friday was not the end of the story after all. 

On this Easter, celebrate, but please rejoice at home.  Let your Easter celebration at home allow someone to live.  No one is immune from this pestilence.  It matters.  It matters a lot.  Easter, after all, is not about family get-togethers, bunnies, ham dinner and jelly beans, but what Christ has done for us.

He is risen.  He is risen indeed.   That we may live in relationship with Him and to live forever and ever.

By this we know love,
that He laid down His life for us...


                        1 John 3. 16

Because of Jesus,
    life can never be the same.
Our hope in Him
   is not based on wishful cheery thinking,
                      "We'll get through this!"
but our hope
   is on Whom 
                  we can stake our lives.