“My trust in God flows out of the experience of his loving me, day in and day out, whether the day is stormy or fair, whether I’m sick or in good health, whether I’m in a state of grace or disgrace. He comes to me where I live and loves me as I am.”
Even if you’re not a religious or spiritual person, you likely still know this is the preeminent event on the Christian calendar. And this year, I’ve found myself contemplating this holiday from the perspective of my friends who think I’m a bit crazy for believing in this fantastic fable, as they might describe it.
Because I agree with them.
It is preposterous to think that anyone could be an eternal being one day and a human being the next. That he could live a very good life — much less a perfect one. That because he was killed and came back to life a few days later, we all get an opportunity to enter into a grander story than we live right now. That we could even live forever.
The Easter story’s not new to me.
I was practically born in a church, so I’ve heard it hundreds of times. And yet even with its familiarity, there are still many nights that I lie awake and question its truth and impossible promises. There are perplexing experiences that happen all around me that make no sense and seem downright cruel. Dark seasons in my life where I feel alone, abandoned, and anonymous. Where the only logical conclusion must be . . . there is no God. And I’ve nearly walked away from this thing called faith on multiple occasions.
So friends, I understand you. Some days, I am you.
And yet I keep coming back to what am I left with then? If I completely toss aside my belief in something I can’t see, prove, or fully fathom, where do I turn to when things like the past two years happen? When sickness comes? When death takes a friend without warning? When family members fall back into their addictions? When this planet crumbles underneath my feet? When the hungry remain unfed? When kids get abandoned and abused? When women are trafficked? When life leaves us separated and unseen?
Because I know I’d be far more helpless in these moments without it.
And so I keep on believing in the unbelievable and leaning into the mystery of things I cannot comprehend. I keep trusting that good still beats evil. Hoping there’s peace within the pain. Accepting that I am deeply loved and that spiritual powers fight for me. That there’s a bigger story into which my chapter fits.
I keep holding onto faith. Thank you, my friends, for your enduring faith in me.