Our faith is not for the faint of heart. We believe in miracles, in improbable events, and in divine heroes. Going through tonight's vigil readings, there is so much that is so fantastic, incredible, and even terrifying. Father Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son. Moses leading his people out of Egypt, parting the Red Sea and marching in triumph to Israel. A God who storms in anger but mercifully forgives, promising an unyielding bounty and everlasting life.
And then an empty tomb, a divine messenger, and a risen Lord.
It's not my tendency to question any of it. In my 37 years, I've moved past the point of doubting my faith in these words. I believe. But as I sit at my laptop to write about them, in the privacy of my kitchen, it's hard not to look at them in their totality and wonder why I believe it all so wholeheartedly. I can't defend it or explain it except to say that my life has been touched by people and experiences that have helped me to believe in miracles, who have shown me by their goodness what it means to walk with Christ.
Our faith is courageous and countercultural. We believe in in sacrifice, in offering ourselves in service to others, in forgiveness and in justice. If we lived every day like this, as the psalm says, we would renew the face of the Earth.
On Easter, we begin again. Create a clean heart in me, O God.
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