Contemplating Easter

Last February, I got sick. Really sick. I was out of work for over a month with a second bout of mono. My mom came to take care of me for several weeks, because I was pretty much unable to do even basic things without extreme, exhausting effort.

It was awful. But it was also one of the best things that has happened to me. After a week or so of watching TV shows and DVDs on my computer, of reading gossip Web sites, of trying to find ways to occupy endless hours of boredom, I found myself just wanting to rest, to be quiet, to spend time with God.

It is a rare thing in this crazy world of ours to have time like that. But leave it to mono to open up all kinds of opportunity.

My sickness came during Lent, which I don’t think was any kind of coincidence. And as I read books like Tim Keller’s “The Reason for God” along with my readings from a little book my friend Caroline found years ago and which still guides my everyday time with God – “A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants,” I found myself understanding for what seemed like the first time the meaning of the cross and the depth of God’s love.

I grew up a Christian. I've gone to church for as long as I can remember. I am actually really thankful for that, but I also find that there are some things that simply become route about faith because you have heard them your whole life. “God loves you.” “Yep. Got it.” “Jesus died on the cross for you.” “Uh huh.”

But as I was forced to take a big step back from the restlessness of my life, as I spent hours in quiet solitude with God, those most basic truths about my faith became real to me again.

A year out, in an entirely different city, on an entirely different couch, I find myself contemplating those same things as Easter comes again. And I am amazed at a God who comes. Who meets us in the darkest night. Who brings us out into the light. Who loves us beyond anything we can measure or imagine.

It can be hard to remember that. This world is broken. I am broken. There are things — awful things, evil things — that I just can’t explain. But what I always come back to, in the end, is that the God I believe in is one who isn’t removed from pain or suffering. He knows the depths of the deepest pit. And the thing that gives me hope is his resurrection. Because it means that one day everything will be restored, everyone will be whole again.

I know that seems crazy to most people in this world of ours. Sometimes I think it’s a bit crazy too. But my life’s been completely changed by it. And as Jonathan Edwards once said: “There is a difference between believing that God is holy and gracious, and having a new sense on the heart of the loveliness and beauty of that holiness and grace. The difference between believing God is gracious and tasting that God is gracious is as different as having a rational belief that honey is sweet and having an actual sense of its sweetness.”