The Confrontation of Easter

* A Reflection on Jesus' encounter with two men on their way to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-27)

Lent is usually the time of year that could be described as "confrontational." We roll up our sleeves and ask God "to search us and know our hearts; too try us and know our thoughts; to see if there is any idolatrous way in us; and to lead us in the right way (adapted from Psalm 139:23-24)." We are more intentional about setting aside time in our days to consider the ways in which our lives do not conform to the words of Jesus and the revelation he brings to us in the Epiphany. We are more deliberate about self-examination, seeking to pay closer attention to what we have heard so that we do not drift away (Heb 2:1). And over the course of those 40 plus days of auditing, we become acutely aware of all the ways we "fall short of the glory of God (Rom 3:23)." 

Easter is a welcome relief! Yes, we fall short, but God has bridged the gap, defeating the one who has the power of death, delivering us from slavery, and making purification for sins by giving us Jesus, the faithful one, who is the founder and perfecter of our faith (Heb 12:2). 

Easter is a time to rest in God's provision, to delight in God's life of love; it's a time to remember that our "no!", our rebellion, our sickness, our fickleness, our infidelity, is not the last word. 

And yet, I find Easter also to be a time of confrontation. And perhaps this is particular to my own struggles and makeup: I regularly find it difficult to hope. I am more often than not ravaged by varying levels of despair. The track record of disappointments that I have experienced over the course of my life entice me to either take on a posture of cynicism, or to cover up longings and desires for wholeness, flourishing, connection, reconciliation, and peace--all so that I don't have to deal with the torment of not getting what I long for. 

Easter meets me at what may be my weakest place, hopelessness, and says "you're despair is a lie! There is no scenario that is so bad that it can't be redeemed. There is nothing that can stop God from delivering on his promises." The resurrection shows that the very worst thing that can happen, the horrific state-sponsored murder of "a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and the people", is not the last word; it's not the end of the story. Easter confronts each of our "but we had hoped" moments when we think God and others have let us down--when our visions, hopes, dreams, and plans do not take the shape we expected,--and reorients us to a reality that can only be seen through faith (see Luke 24:13-27, esp. v.21). 

Easter invites me to take up hope as a posture, to practice hope in the midst of enticements to despair,  to interpret the world through the lens of God's puzzling and unexpected faithfulness, to treat people and circumstances as if God really keeps his promises, to acknowledge that God is on the move, working in and though all circumstances--and in ways that I am unable to imagine. He is making Fridays into Sundays even now. 

Ultimately, Easter confronts my propensity towards despair and says "this is not 'just being a realist'; your hopelessness is infidelity, sinful, harmful, and ultimately doesn't deliver on its promise." Easter reminds me that hope may well be the ultimate act of gospel faithfulness. It is also an act of defiance, an affront to the prince of the power of the air and the principalities of darkness (Eph 2:2). 

So, Easter invites me to say, to believe, to anticipate that "I will look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living; to wait for the LORD; and to let my heart take courage (Psa 27:13-14)." 

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,

so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Romans 15:13