Resurrection

Last week was disgustingly hot. Everyone kept saying that it meant we were in for a good rain. Good rains always follow intense heat. Sure enough, our respite came on Sunday. Clockwork. After the rains, we welcomed a few blissful days of cool breezes and overcast skies. These are the ones when I wonder if anyone in the world could be enjoying more beauty. But then I remember that I’m only soaking in today’s perfection because of yesterday’s relative hell.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the pain of people around me. Sometimes I feel like the things that we do in church must seem really far removed from everything that’s happening in their real lives. Lately there’s seemed to have been a bad news bug going around. And this is Semana Santa, the week when all of Paraguay celebrates the resurrection of our Lord. But some people get sick and have to die. Others grow tired of us and choose to leave. Sometimes people that we trust steal our money. Sometimes they lie and rob us of our good name. Yet in the midst of it all, Christians gather and proclaim, “He is risen! He is risen, indeed! Hallelujah!” What does that even mean? How can we celebrate when our entire worlds are caving in around us, crumbling to pieces at our feet?

I believe that we can rejoice because piles of rubble are the excavation sites of miracles. Jesus never gave sight to someone who could already see. For how many years did the young man born blind hopelessly suffer before Jesus walked by? Neither did Jesus strengthen the legs of those already walking. But how long had the lame man been sitting at the side of the pool, unnoticed and neglected? Jesus didn’t calm still waters. His new wine didn’t supplement overstocked shelves. .He didn’t give fish and barley loaves to those who were already full. And He wouldn’t have risen unless he had died.

This is the night when Jesus offered His body and blood to the disciples. On this night, His agony caused Him to sweat blood in Gethsemane, pleading with God to spare Him of the suffering to come. This is the night that He was betrayed and was tried for crimes that He didn’t commit. On this night, His closest friends denied ever knowing Him. But He walked through this night. He died. And then on Sunday morning, He rose. Tonight’s disappointments are excruciatingly real. But so is Jesus, presently sitting at the right hand of God, our heavenly Father who dearly loves us. In this confidence, let us cling to the hand of Him who intimately understands our sufferings, as we esperar (wait / hope) for the morning when we will finally share in the glorious joy of His resurrection.