Finding Easter

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Sometimes it takes something in the news to awaken my faith.

Such was the case last night. Like many people, I entered fully into Holy Week, particularly Good Friday and Easter, but the services I attended and the thoughts and prayers I offered only seemed to skim the surface this year. The state of the world right now has made it difficult for me to see how an empty tomb has made any difference.

But then I watched the news last night and heard of a tragedy that happened at a beach in Florida. A strong rip current was carrying two children out to sea and their father ran in and tried to save them. He was successful, in that both children survived, but he died saving them. The anguish I heard through his wife’s tears ripped away the calluses on my heart, and this morning I can’t help but think about the impact that moment will have on those children for the rest of their lives. They were drowning and their father came and rescued them only to die doing so.

Suddenly, Easter came alive for me. As I thought about those children living in the shadows of what their father did, I thought about the shadow of Easter and how I, too, live because someone came to my rescue and saved me. Those words can sometimes sound formulaic or trite, particularly when they’re wrapped in annual traditions, beloved hymns, and colorful outfits, but the incident in the news helped me find the greater depth I sought and needed this Easter.

Like the man’s children, I want to remember the life I’ve been given and the cost at which it came.

Rusty Golf Clubs

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I don’t know where they found it, or how they managed to bring it to our back door, but one of our dogs found a long-lost golf club from our home’s past owners somewhere in the ivy of our back yard and delivered it like a trophy. It was completely rusty and the grip was partially rotted.

For some reason, I thought it would be fun to bring the club back to life, but it turned out to be much more work than I intended. I took the club to the sink and washed off the mud, of which there was much. The hot water removed most of it, and a brush took away the rest. I saw it was a 9 iron, but the rest of the club face and shaft were brown with rust. Water and brushes were not enough to get down to the original steel. I needed steel wool and wire brushes for that work. Some of the rust came off easily, other spots were more difficult (even impossible). I’d like to say I was completely successful and that a new shiny 9 iron was sitting in my golf bag, but my efforts were only partially successful. It was clear the club had seen better days, but the experience made me think about Lent in a tangible way.

Whether we like to admit it or not, time has a way of leaving its mark on us. We go about our lives and almost without noticing, rust starts to appear. If left unattended, it will cover us. So too, we get covered in mud or dirt just by living our lives, and Lent seems to be a time we to wash off the mud and scrape away the rust. Some comes off easily, but eventually we need to get out the steel wool and wire brush for the more deep-seeded habits and thoughts. It’s not easy work, which is why so few do it, and even fewer see it through. But it’s worth the effort even if our original condition is beyond reach.

We were marvelously made, the psalmist reminds us, and it is the least we can do to live our lives fully and scrape away those unhealthy things that seek to cling to us, not only during Lent but throughout our lives. In the end, we may have spots that remain, but at least we will be recognizable again and that is something to work for and celebrate.