Easter

It is not easy being a Christian. Having to answer to all the horrible things that other so-called Christians have done...even though I didn't do any of it...having your chosen denomination painted with the old "All the same" brush...insisting that a Christian doesn't have to wear boring clothes and never swear, never think evil thoughts, and be NICE all the time...ugh.

So, Happy Easter everybody. If you're the kind of Christian that actually lives it, this is the most important event of the year. Without this, we have nothing to hang our theology on.

Now, here's where my QUESTION EVERYTHING rebellion steps in. When I was a teenager, I thought I'd never be able to get baptized because I had to Question Everything. Lucky for me I chose to be Mennonite so I could get baptized when I was real damn good and ready, because it took me some time. Once I got to be about 13 or 14, suddenly I got reeeaally sceptical. Virgin birth eh? Died and came back to life eh?

It's a real clash when you grow up listening to your Grandpa preach on Sunday--and he was one riveting preacher--then feel your brain kick in and try to tear down everything you've known about God and the universe and heaven and life. I'm not even a logical, scientific person. I can't imagine how hard it would be if I was. I'm just simply rebellious.

Here's what I came up with: I don't care.

I don't care if what's written in the big book is tenth-hand information. The hardest thing is to go by faith. What the hell is faith? Blind trust. Sometimes you have to stop thinking and go by feel.

All I know is, about 2000 years ago, there was this guy, and he really pissed a lot of people off because he said outrageous things, and he was a rebel, and he didn't do anything the way anybody else said he should. He had strange abilities. He had star power. He could make people want to listen to him. He inspired loyalty in his friends. He appeared often to be completely wacko. But he was a basically good person. And there was something very, very special and different about him.

He changed history. But none of that matters to me really, because I don't care. Here's what I care about:

A few years ago, after both my kids were born, I was sitting in church one Easter Sunday, and it hit me like a ton of bricks...who would I die for? The ones I love? Of course. No question. The entire world? Nuh-uh. Not for people I haven't even met. But according to the story, that's what he did. I couldn't do that, but he did it for me.

At least, that's the way the story goes. I haven't been to church in about two months. I'll see ya again on Tuesday and I hope you have a great weekend, whatever you're doing.