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April 2004 |
Reflections From Bishop White:
The Christ of Easter
It happened again! Without warning. The telephone ring now brings much apprehension. I am beginning to dread it. Like the telegram of earlier days, it almost always brings un-welcomed news.
Still I was unprepared. News of another who had discovered life was not what it seemed. An anguished parent received the news that a child, loved, reared in the church, married and now a parent, concluded theirs was a love orientation toward a person of the same gender. "Please help me through this!" was the plea.
Crushed, heart-broken, world now turned upside down, a search for answers and hope - and help.
A death of a beloved pastor -- no, several. Each is too soon. Too soon. Words expressed to a sobbing spouse, a heart-broken family. Bewildered colleagues with some for the first time glimpsing their own death. Eyes appealing desperately -- "please say something" to sooth the hurt, ease the pain - something, "to get me through this!"
A teenager uncharacteristically acting out with destructive behavior confounds parents who believed they had done everything right. They have provided the best education with every trapping of "things" money could buy and a solid Christian foundation including regular church attendance, youth group and the rest. "Now I don't know my child!" The words uttered through tears. "I'm at my wits' end, I've tried everything."
The tragic fire takes the life of a beloved community leader, loved one and friend. One moment helping others, trying to make life better for those "down and out," sunset years being enjoyed. Seemingly in the twinkling of an eye it changes into the horrific.
The young wife begins, almost stoically, and then breaks down as she sobs, "He has his Orders, he's going to Afghanistan. What am I going to do alone with my children? I'm afraid. I'm afraid he won't come back! Help me! Help me!" She can say no more.
And death visits one's own household. It has been there before. But what does that matter? Every death is new - unique. So you experience it as if for the first time. One wonders after a while, if the pain places have all evaporated. Used so long and so often it seems there is no longer room for more pain. Then another death uncovering a new place of pain.
These are events that deeply touch a bishop's life, not unlike yours or a neighbor's life. They are a part of living and human existence. No one escapes. No amount of money, education, or prestige exempts one from sorrow -- some form of it! Each of us takes our turn with it -- not if, but when!
Into a litany of sorrow enters Jesus. The Christ. Not the one of Hollywood, nor of debates about his race or ethnic origin, his psychological make-up, or even his existence. Enters the One of Easter -- of Easter's Faith and Promise. The personal Christ -- real -- experienced. The One who remains after the last visitor has left following the burial and you sit utterly alone.
The Christ of Easter - Hope beyond the lilies and pageantry, sustaining in the face of unmistakable and inexplicable tragedy and suffering.
The Christ of Easter -- affirmed in the singing - when the words and music mysteriously heal and the tears of sorrow become tears of hope.
The Christ of Easter -- when death gives way to immortality and certainty replaces doubt.
The Christ of Easter, when one holds fast to the assurance, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I am fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)."
The Christ of Easter diminished not by powers, principalities, politics, circumstances, causes, nor critics.
The Christ of Easter is the Christ of Faith. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Forever -- and ever. Hallelujah!
Woodie W. White
Last updated on 04/19/2004