“We have lost Him. On Him who we hung our very hope, our everything. We forsook all to follow and we were not able to keep Him alive, to keep Him here, to establish an eternal Kingdom. One of us betrayed Him, one of us denied Him, we all ran away. And when some of us came to watch Him hang we wept and wondered and waited for God to intervene. This was not the plan; this could not be the plan to see perfection torn to shreds, to bury a breathless body in forged out stone to fit the One we supposed was the darling of Heaven. We had rested or tried to rest on His promises. He had us convinced. And now what good is it? What meaning can we find while the mourning is too real on this darkest of all nights. Had it been light we would not be able to see through our tears, through the waves of all His words that now seem to carry no weight in light of injustice. And God is silent. Some of us saw Him transfigured with Moses and Elijah. Neither of them died like this. Was he a criminal? Are we? Are we next? Perhaps it would be more bearable if we were next. After all what else is left?”

We live in the aftermath of the resurrection. We know today that what we celebrate tomorrow is the promise, bore witness to by the Spirit, that we who believe will one day be raised with Him. And that is our consolation and Blessed Hope, and it should be enough; it is enough.

Yet it has been a painful year. It has been a painful now, as many all over the world have suffer loss, some of those losses great and unexpected. I do not understand loss enough.

I thought perhaps a year of chaplaincy would help me or at least make it easier, but I reflect on the last year, the losses of relationship whether the hope of romance or the loss of my grandmother and the countless losses of beautiful people who I met during my time in the hospital system. I think about the loss of trust and to some extent dreams of working in a ministerial context and the loss or delay of settling down somewhere to live only to start working a job that has taken its toll on my mind and body.

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I am in the worst shape of my life physically, and undoubtedly, I have had days that emotionally and mentally  have been far too dark to revisit. And yet I believe in the Resurrection. I profess faith in a good God who will make all things work together for the good of those who love Him if in fact I love Him.

And I suppose that is the question. What is the quality of my love? What is the condition of my heart? Will I relinquish any potential root of bitterness, frustration, even anger over the way the story of the last year has been written.

I had a brief conversation with my friends tonight about buying a new laptop. They said the one I use that is five years old and cheap is not worth keeping and I should get a new one. I resisted, saying that this one is sufficient and that I am amazed it has lasted this long considering how cheap it is. And it turned into a conversation about my desire for big and drastic changes while being less interested in the smaller manageable ones.

And I realized I have run out of patience (Love is patient). I might not  have the courage to wait for things to change over time putting forth effort so I  have hoped futilely that things would magically, drastically change over night, that things would resurrect. I have been told and taught to believe this way. But I am not sure that this is how it shakes down. As miraculous as the resurrection is, I’m not sure it is a magical or instantaneous as we think. He was slain before the foundation of the earth.  It was the plan of the Godhead in eternity past and, Scripture suggests Jesus was busy doing work in the grave, a work that took time in order to hold the keys of victory over death.

The last year and a half my faith has deconstructed. I have lost touch with the Church/church through disillusionment and disappointment. I have become exhaustively frustrated by the process of sanctification and struggle to live a disciplined and faithful life. I have struggled with prayer and miracles, but not death and not resurrection. I think the death and resurrection of Christ for some of the last year has been the tendon that has held me together. It is easy to believe Jesus died, it feels evident and certain from a human point of view and being acquainted with death I have felt solace in the fact that Christ would die in my place. But the romance is the resurrection. The scandal is that He did not stay dead and because of that truth, the implication is I don’t stay dead and disappointed or sad forever.

Tonight I was sad, dreading thinking about the paralysis of my sense of purpose and still confused about how to place myself where I am physically, mentally, spiritually. I wish I could just spend a week being content. I want a heart capable or healthy enough to choose to love like Jesus. I want the resurrection to change me. And maybe, the light of tomorrow will. So we hope.

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