A Farfetched Story

I've been thinking about Easter all week. Kind of hard not to. Thinking about this farfetched story of the Son of God becoming human, walking in our shoes, seeing this world through our eyes.

All the while, showing them what God is truly like; not the angry judge of the Old Testament but a loving, healing, feeding, caring God. But that wasn't good enough for the people who knew Him or knew of Him.

They brutally murdered Him. The people who believed in Him fell apart. Then He rose from the dead. Have no doubts, the other possibilities - His body was stolen, He wasn't really dead, etc. have been thoroughly debunked. So either He rose from the dead or the story is simply not true.

For my friends who don't believe in God, it is simply not true. There is no God. This planet and the people on it are hopeless accidents. When we die, we die.

There is no hope.

I have to believe in hope. That we are loved by something more and greater than ourselves. That this pitiful life, no matter how gloriously some have lived it [I haven't] does not abruptly end with no meaning to it at all. That evil goes unpunished and good goes unrecognized.

But the best part is that a risen Saviour means that there is the possibility of forgiveness. I say "possibility" because He won't force it on anyone. But He'll offer it. He offers it to anyone who knows they didn't live their best life. Who feels the weight of sins they can't escape from. Who hangs their head in shame and weeps.

I believe in a risen Saviour who will forgive the grieving, broken, and ashamed. He died to bear our sins. He rose to show He truly is the Son of God and that there is life after death - there is hope.

I choose hope.