Easter and that damn list

Easter morning is different, if you allow it to be.  It’s the days leading up to it that are fleeting.

Supposedly, the High Holy Days of the Christian faith happen this weekend. And yet, I didn’t think about it much until halfway through the Good Friday night service.  It was just something else on the calendar. Something else I had to do this week—grocery store, laundry, mow the lawn, oh yeah-Friday night at the church and then Sunday. What do I have to bring to the lunch on Sunday? Back to the store.

It was just something else on the list of things to do.

But it isn’t.

For those of us out there that might feel the same way, here’s the thing—it’s okay to feel that way. The God that we celebrate is not disappointed in us. We do that to ourselves. He already knew about our inability to focus before we did, and yet He still  adores us.

For those agnostics or atheists among us, it’s okay. No one is going to beat you up, at least not on this web page.  Sometimes, if we certified Christians were honest, a lot of us feel the same way. The idea of us having it all together, all the answers, our lives all sorted, the world is smoother for us, is a, well, mostly a lie.

We cheat, struggle, lie, kill, suffer, divorce, die, just like everyone else. We have been infected with the same terminal illness everyone on this planet is infected with. So what?

We believe in something that happened two thousand years ago, actually-it was set up since we started living on this rock.

What if…

The story of the carpenter’s kid was true? What if he grew up, became a rabbi, had a few people following him around a crappy part of the world for three years, his death witnessed and documented?  So, what if, just what if---the rest is true?

The problem with this story isn’t the story, its us who read the story. We think in order to be a ‘good’ Christian, we need to fall on our faces, live a clean and pure life, never make a mistake, and when we do, we beat ourselves up, preferably in front of a thousand witnesses to show our piousness. If we’re lucky, God will have pity on us and take us in, after first scolding us and shaking his god finger at us. We are just lucky to be accepted—we should just be grateful we got God on a good day.

The problem is two fold, that’s not what God thinks of us at all and it has absolutely nothing to do with anything we do. He would even say that was 'Bull' (Yes, my God uses that word, usually followed with the ‘S’ word but I wanted to be pious).

Here is the truth—he adores us.

He knows our issues before we do. He knows we will not only trip, we will fall like a friggin rock. We will screw up, apologize, and do it fifty more times before the week is out. And yet, when we speak, He holds his hands up to the angels, silencing their singing because he wants to hear what we are saying. We bring Him joy, even in our poopy pants. He smiles at our attempt and failure. It isn’t us that stands ourselves up again after we’ve fallen, but the hands of our Dad. He brushes off our clothes, wipes our tears, points us down range again, and sends us off to make another attempt at this life. He is so proud, so in love with us, we can not fathom such a love. 

He does not want us to feel guilt beyond what guilt is designed for, to draw our attention to our spirit telling us we might want to look at what we are doing and see if this is what we really want to do. He does not believe the person that suffers publicly more than anyone else is, in fact, more Christian. Actually, He knows it to be the opposite. There is no list He is keeping on us, no tally of wrongs. That sheet has been shredded, destroyed. “What list?” He would respond to our “Yeah, but….” comment about how screwed up we are. That bill was paid, on a nob of a hill outside an ancient city.

So, here we are at Easter in 2013. Eggs, bunnies, candy, and paisley colors. Fathers attending the one church service of the year, breaking out their one suit and painful shoes because their ‘suppose to.’

You can hear Dad use that word again—that compound word that I believe, and I think there is Biblical support in the minor prophets to back me up, is His favorite word. I think on this day, this one day, He doesn't care what you wear, only what your heart says. He only wants to celebrate the gift he gave us. What if you wore a Hawaiian shirt to church? What if you wore shorts? How about if you didn’t shave or shower? Would Dad love you any less? He can’t. It’s not in his character. There is nothing you did, are doing, or will do, that will make Him go away. He can’t. Once He's in, he's in. He sees you perfectly, just the way He made you. All you have to do is accept it.

He is drawn to our voices. He loves us like a Dad is suppose to. Totally. 

Dare, just once, to believe, and pitch the list.

Happy Easter