A Wild & Precious Easter

“Mangrove tree inside Snipes Point near Key West,” Florida Memory, Wikimedia Commons

by Rev. Laura Barclay

I had the opportunity to go on a much needed vacation recently with my husband to sunny Key West. Because he had looked forward to this for weeks, he immediately wanted to book some excursions. We settled on a jet ski tour around the island and a boat trip that included snorkeling in the middle of the ocean. After nearly drowning in the ocean when I was 12, I was less than enthused about these choices, but I try to live by Eleanor Roosevelt's advice to "do one thing everyday that scares you."

I was even less enthused the next day when I realized we had hired a speed demon for a jet ski instructor who used words like "gnarly" and "rad" far too much. My options were to go between 45 - 50 mph and risked being flayed by the water if I fell off or lose site of the guide and wander aimlessly off the coast. While I like a bit of adventure, these are not my idea of good choices.

During one of the rare times he stopped to give us information about the island, he told us about the mangrove islands off the coast that we were about to fly past and barely see at breakneck speeds. He said that mangroves aren't actually saltwater plants. So how do they live in saltwater? They send a sacrificial leaf down to soak up all the salt. While this leaf withers and dies, the rest of the plant remains hearty and healthy.

I was just about to ask another question when he revved up his engine and rocketed away, and the moment passed. Later, I thought of this plant and how timely it was to learn this lesson the week before Easter. Throughout Lent, we give up bad habits or taken on spiritual practices in the hopes of reconnecting with the very core of our faith in God, and perhaps to learn something about ourselves. 

What is our sacrificial leaf? What have we had to give up so that we could flourish in our lives and our calling? Isn't that a bit like taking up our cross, as Jesus bid us to do? Well, in order to make it to the end of that terrifying jet ski tour, I had to give up fear. Instead of thinking about the sickening sound my body would make hitting the water at high speeds, I tried to focus on the wind in my hair, the color of the water, and the uniqueness of the moment.  I realized would never be in this situation were I in control. Control can be both good and bad; we can surround ourselves with things that comfort us, but we may miss a lot of great experiences. 

Our God is a great one who defeated death. Jesus flipped our world on it's end when he showed that the evil power of a corrupt Roman ruler wouldn't have the last say. Nothing is safe. The order of things has been upended. C.S. Lewis put it best in his "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" when the children are nervous about meeting the Christ-like character of the lion, Aslan. Susan says, "Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion." Mr. Beaver replies, "Safe? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

In a world where anything can happen, we aren't in really in control, and we follow a God who can defeat death itself, what does Easter mean?  In this celebration of our risen Lord, I think we should all ask ourselves what our place is in this world. If we take up our cross, shed our sacrificial leaf, and lean into God's call, what could we do? What will we do?

As the great poet Mary Oliver asked, "Tell me, what will you do with your one wild and precious life?"

The article originally appeared on "Next Sunday Resources":  http://www.nextsunday.com/a-wild-precious-easter/

An Easter on God's Acre

Home Moravian Church, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

by Rev. Dr. Davis Vess

The “Salem” part of Winston-Salem refers to the historic Moravian village of Salem. Every Easter morning, in the early hours of this day, thousands of people, many of them tourists who have come especially for this event, make their way towards the courtyard in front of a 200-year-old church, founded by the Moravians. Before daylight, five hundred members of various brass bands echo hymns from different parts of the city. Everyone converges on Salem Square to listen to the almost mystical-sounding music. As the first hint of the rising sun begins to soften the darkness, a hush falls over the vast throng of worshipers. When the church bell tolls at 6 a. m., the Bishop emerges from the church and announces in a loud, unwavering voice, "Christ is Risen!" And the crowd thunders back, "Christ is Risen indeed!" Then the band begins to play "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and everyone joins in the singing there in front of the church.

God's Acre, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

Then, in total silence, they walk in faithful procession to "God's Acre," an ancient cemetery, where all the graves, with their newly-polished gravestones, are covered with flowers. Even the oldest graves, some of them dating back three hundred years, are decorated with forsythia, jonquils, tulips, azaleas - whatever happens to be blooming at the time. The service concludes there, with more singing and remembrance of those who have died since the previous Easter. There, in the awesome silence, with the beauty of the flowers all around, it's as if the living are united with the dead in worship. A writer who witnessed the event said, "When you are in the midst of all this majesty and beauty, you cannot fail to believe in the resurrection."

And so it is in thousands of churches of every denomination all around the world on this greatest of days, Easter. The Day of Resurrection. The day of joy and hope. The central day of our faith and witness. Christmas is nice, but it's not Easter. Anybody can get excited about Christmas, giving and receiving presents, oohing and aahing over the baby born in Bethlehem. But when you come right down to it Christmas would not be Christmas without Easter.

David Vess is the pastor of Swift Creek Baptist Church in Raleigh. This article originally appreared in their church newsletter, the Swift Creek Chronicler.

Three Days and Nights

Noah and Sophie 2 yrs. ago

by Dr. Dennis Atwood

It was Sunday night when we realized one of our cats was missing. For over two years the daily routine has been: pets outside during the day and inside the house at night. We have two cats and a dog—all female—which seems to provide some balance to our three boy universe, ying to our yang. (However, with son number one now in college the dog has defaulted to me.) My younger two sons each have a cat. The cats, and the boys, have a nightly drill. After showers and teeth-brushing is done, just before prayers, the cats assume their nightly position—Sox on Cole’s bed and Sophie on Noah’s bed. But Sunday night Sophie was nowhere to be found. This was the first full night in over two years that the cat had not come inside for the night. Noah, who is ten, was not happy about not having his sleeping buddy. We assured him the cat would show up. Next day, nothing. On Tuesday, I made some “cat missing” fliers and we put them all over the neighborhood. Tuesday night came. Still nothing. I called Animal Control. Nothing. For three days and three nights we scoured the neighborhood calling for a cat that was not there.

Since we live next to a small swamp I began to fear the worst. On Monday I heard a story about a hawk that had recently snatched up a small dog living nearby and dropped it several miles away—near a vet’s office ironically enough. That dog didn’t hunt again. I also heard about a coyote recently seen prowling the golf course behind my house. With each passing day Noah got droopier and droopier. It’s hard for a parent to watch a child suffer loss and not be able to fix it. But I knew there was nothing more we could do.

Then on Wednesday morning, as Noah and Cole were outside about to head off to school, suddenly Cole came running in the house saying, “I found Sophie!” “What? Where?” I asked. “In Miss Beth’s car! It’s still locked!” In a few minutes, after rustling up the next door neighbors, Sophie was free and Noah was a happy boy. Turns out curiosity almost killed the cat. Our good friends had been loading up their GMC Envoy on Sunday afternoon for a trip to Hilton Head, South Carolina. Apparently, Sophie crawled undetected into their SUV during the loading of golf clubs, beach stuff, and luggage. For three days and nights Sophie hunkered down in the belly of a GMC never making a sound. They never knew she was in there!

So as this cat’s tale turns out, Sophie took a spontaneous vacation to South Carolina for three days with no food or water. She could have jumped out along the way or been run over. But instead she hunkered down for three days and nights entombed in a GMC… and Wednesday morning was like resurrection! After the initial joy, Noah and Cole had to rush off to school. But their joy was palpable. Their beloved cat that was as good as dead, they could now touch and see and speak to. She was alive and present! It was priceless. More than the cat’s return, seeing my son’s joy was the greatest satisfaction of all.

So I’m going to tell them tonight to remember how it felt to experience the surprise and joy of being reunited with someone they thought was gone forever. I want them to remember the sights, the smells, the touches of holding someone they thought they would never see again. Separation and loss is indeed painful and real—even if it involves a family pet.

In a small, tangible way, Sophie’s excursion to Hilton Head reminded me of just how joyful and tangible and real it will be one day to be reunited with those whom we have loved and lost. Our pain here is real, and sometimes we need a signal of the greater reality that awaits people of faith in the Christ who spent three days in a tomb. That final Easter morning is truly going to be glorious. In a strange and funny way, a curious cat and a little boy gave me a grace-filled moment—a foretaste of the gift of eternal life.

Dennis Atwood is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Mount Olive. This article originally appeared on his blog.

The Morning After

by Dr. Tony Cartledge

Every year I wake up on Easter Monday morning and wonder how the people closest to Jesus felt on the morning after the most shocking event of their lives. Did they finally get a good night's sleep after such a restless weekend, or had they stayed up all night debating the meaning of the resurrection? Were they confident of seeing Jesus again, or still caught by surprise every time he showed up? It's hard to imagine what those first couple of days must have been like for them.

And what are they like for us? Does the passing of Easter mean nothing more than freedom from our Lenten pledges, or the end of a holiday, or a chance to try new recipes with boiled eggs before they go bad?

I hope we'll spend some time on the day after Easter thinking about what resurrection means on every other day. How is my life different because Christ arose? How are my hopes for the future different? How does the reality of Easter impact my present actions, my state of mind, my decision-making?

If we are resurrection people, how can others tell?

How long will the flowers last?

Tony Cartledge is the contributing editor for Baptists Today, and also teaches Old Testament at Campbell University Divinity School. This post originally appeared on his blog at http://www.baptiststoday.org/cartledge-blog/.

Rescuing Creation

by Dr. J. Derrill Smith

After having been buried alive for a week in the rubble of Haiti's January 12 earthquake, Ena Zizi was rescued by the Gophers. As they pulled her dirty and injured body out on a broken piece of plywood salvaged from the rubble and carefully passed her down over three stories of debris to the ground, the 70-year-old woman began singing. Her singing was inarticulate, as she hadn't had any water to drink for seven days. Yet, her joy was infectious. The members of the Mexican rescue team who were carrying her began crying...

The Mexicans who saved Zizi's life are known in their home country as Los Topos de Tlatelolco, or the Gophers of Tlatelolco. Tlatelolco was a giant apartment complex in Mexico City that was destroyed by earthquake in 1985. During that disaster, when the Mexican government failed to respond promptly, Tlatelolco residents formed their own rescue brigade and learned on the job. In the years since they have become stars among international rescue teams.

Unlike rescuers who stay on the surface and peel away the debris until they reach the victims, they Gophers have become world-renowned experts at gaining faster access to survivors by tunneling into rubble and propping up makeshift tunnels with debris. It means they put their own lives at risk, but that risk paid off for Zizi. ("Out of the Rubble," The Christian Century, March 23, 2010)

Paul Jeffrey, a United Methodist missionary who reported this moving story, says that the Gophers have a lot to teach us. He says that if we are to help the Haitians, as well as other devastated people, we must dig deeper and tunnel into the systems that keep people depressed and poor. Indeed, he is correct. But some of my first thoughts about the Mexican rescuers tunneling deep into dangerous places went immediately to the great thing that Christ did for us. Setting aside his glory and putting on human flesh, Jesus of Nazareth tunneled into the pathos of human existence in order to show us the way to God. Yet, the world did not receive this Savior but hung him on a cross. The earliest teachers of the faith said that "he descended into hell." There is much speculation about what exactly that descent means, but there is no denying that Christ tunneled into human existence, even death and hell itself, to rescue his creation. This is the message of Easter. "Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!"

Derrill Smith is the pastor of Wingate Baptist Church in Wingate, NC. This article originally appeared in Wingate Baptist's church newsletter, "The Chrysalis."

Easter Reflection

by Rev. Laura Barclay

As Easter approaches this year, the topic of consumerism has been on my mind. It wasn’t until a recent Saturday morning when my spouse and I were watching television. A commercial appeared with a cartoon Barbie swimming around in the ocean. The announcer said something about how the story of Barbie achieving her dream of being a human would make a great Easter gift. Really? A cartoon based on a plastic doll that has dangerously unbelievable body proportions and may encourage poor self-esteem in our youth is the perfect Easter gift?

I began to notice some of my divinity school friends on Facebook complaining that they couldn’t find anything Easter-related in stores that didn’t have to do with an bunny or an egg, fertility symbols from a pagan holiday that Christians co-opted many centuries ago (similar to the Christian co-optation of the Roman festival Saturnalia into Christmas). One particular children’s minister was looking for cutouts of figures from the Easter story and was met with a sea of candy, baskets, and plastic grass.

The reality is that we are living in a culture that is becoming more and more secular by the day. Some aspects of this are great—public schools, separation of church and state, freedom of conscience—and some are more challenging—consumerism and competing values. Businesses in a capitalist economy know that cut-outs of the Easter story won’t sell like candy or Barbie, so they bombard us with images that allow us to forget the less palatable story of the arrest, trial, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus.

I’m a realist. I know that teaching our children and ourselves the story of Jesus amid the barrage of competing ad campaigns is more difficult than in recent history. However, I think the resulting questions, reflection, and faith is more genuine and more committed than it was when everyone claimed to be a Christian, whether they really wanted to be or not. Not so many decades ago, you had to be a Christian to get elected in most districts, to succeed in most social circles, and to fit in most places. Now, in the post-modern marketplace of ideas, most of us that choose to follow Christ do so because we really feel led, not because of peer pressure. We have the freedom to ask questions and deepen our faith in a way that the rigidity of the all-or-nothing modern world didn’t allow. So, while we are losing the ability to find Christian products in every store, we have gained a new way of thinking about our faith.

As we approach the cross, what ways have we carved out of our life to renew our faith as followers of Jesus? How do we reflect on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday? How does the Easter story relate to us today? What does Jesus ask of us as Christians? What crosses do we see in our community that we should take up? Asking ourselves these questions can help center us and focus us on the path of Christ when so many images threaten to distract us.

I wish you a prayerful and reflective Holy Week.