I can only be an Easter man...

Fifteen days ago, one of the young men I work with passed away suddenly. Two weeks ago today, we held a prayer vigil at our church for those of us in shock due to this tragedy. I was asked to lead a short Bible-based reflection. What I wrote and spoke is below. Never again do I want to begin to eulogize a fourteen year old. 

A reading from Lamentations 3:22-24:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

These three verses are at the exact center of the book of Lamentations.

At the center of the pain, and anguish, and despair of this poet are the following words:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

All I can do today is hope.

I cannot fathom, I cannot understand, I cannot feel so deeply.

And so I hope.

I hope in the baptismal promises that Alex and 38 other young people affirmed on Sunday.

I hope in the Easter promise of death overcome by Love through Christ.

I hope up against uncertainty and the unknown of this time.

I hope in the midst of my hurt, my confusion, and my fear.

I hope because hope is all I can do.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

Amen.

The title of this post is about being an Easter man. This is not a chocolate bunnies and peeps sort of deal. This is a claim of hope and trust that death is not the end, that death is a (major) bump on the road of Life. In the face of this young man's death, in the face of the defeat I feel, in the face of the sinkhole of despair that so many have found themselves in, I hope in the Easter promise. I wake up to this hope every day, I go to sleep with this hope, I drive around with this hope, I walk the halls with this hope. 

If there is a theological conviction that sinks into the very being of who I am, it is this hope of Easter. Not the one Sunday out of the year, or the little Easters we celebrate every Sunday, but it is the Easter, the eschaton, the final hope of the full realization of the Kingdom of God in this world. That day, someday, death will cease to draw people from life and Life with God will be everlasting.

That is what I hope for, in spite of the circumstance and suddenness of this boy's death, in spite of the fear of the death of people I love, in spite of the things that feel like death in everyday life. The love of Christ, the promise of the Easter, the merciful judgement and righteousness of God, these things are what I cling to each new morning. Because all I really have is hope.

Hear now the words of hope through music, the song "Beautiful Things" by Gungor via Relevant Magazine. (Opens a YouTube video in a new window.)

Peace and Hope be with you all. Amen.