What I think about Easter
April 23, 2011
This year, there has been no lenten season (for me).
No fasting.
Just reading the odd blog by people who are more religious than I.
‘More religious’ meaning, more … committed, faithful, focused, centered (I refuse to believe that “centred” is the correct spelling, spell-check).
I forgot about Good Friday being “a day to go to church.”
My thoughts have glanced briefly over Easter, and they’ve uncomfortably moved on.
But I’ve yearned for meaning. For it to be significant to me.
I’ve said a prayer, here and there, asking God to save me, you know, yearning for that which was given on Easter 2000 years ago. Salvation.
I’ve felt the hunger – a very familiar ache – for the bread, Jesus, to fill me, sustain me, bring me back to life.
But I haven’t done much to find it. Hoping instead for the short path to the end of my sorrows instead of the long, painful, uphill journey to peace once more.
Why don’t I want to follow, follow the Shepherd out of the rocky cleft, or wherever the hell I am. Bleating, pathetic, stuck, lost. Up and out and away back we go right?
Have I lost my faith? Do I not believe?
Might as well have. My belief makes no difference. It doesn’t change my actions. I am as good as spiritually dead, without the bliss of ignorance or delusions of self-righteousness.
But I’m not losing my faith. I’m just losing my life. I’m drowning in “should dues”. I should do this, I should do that. I know exactly what I should do. But I do not.
I’m struggling tonight, before Easter Sunday, to see how the risen Christ, the saviour, will save me from myself. Or is His love so big he’ll let me go my own way? If it’s up to me to choose rightly, I don’t know if I ever will. I don’t know how to follow.
