A Lot of Little Easters

I have a friend who is a scholar in ancient history. In particular, he specializes in the history of the Roman Empire and the Mediterranean world in the first and second century. He is well respected in his world and has written several books. If I gave you his name, you would tell me you have some of his books.

As a scholar of the first century Roman Empire, he is well acquainted with the history of the early church and loves to correct me on minute details of church history only Jeopardy champions know. Such as what month did the siege of Jerusalem start in AD 70? (Probably April and the siege lasted until November).

My friend is not a believer. He simply doesn’t have the gift of faith he tells me. It’s not that he believes or doesn’t believe. He simply never thinks about it. He loves to read the teachings of Jesus. He considers Jesus to be one of the wisest people to have ever lived. He values the teachings of Jesus along with Buddha, Epicurus and Viktor Frankl. He just doesn’t think Jesus is God.

He’s also one of the best guys I know.

One day he and I were talking and he said, “If you were the president of a seminary, would you hire me to be on your faculty?”

“No,” I said.

“Why not,” he asked. “I’d be more qualified than anyone else you would hire.”

“That’s true,” I said, “but you can’t teach at a Christian seminary and stand up on Easter morning and say, ‘Maybe…’”

“In fact,” I went on, “not only can you not show up on Easter morning if you don’t believe, you can’t show up at the church on Monday morning if you don’t believe.”

One of the reasons I believe in Easter is I’ve seen lots of little Easters. I’ve been there when life came from death, when something came out of nothing and darkness was swallowed up in light.

A young wife had an affair and she was going to confess to her husband. Here was the catch. She didn’t know how her husband would react and she wanted to tell him in my office. We set up the time and the two of them showed up for our meeting. It was one of the worst moments I have ever been part of in my life. As he realized what his wife was telling him, he began to fall apart. Do you remember in the cartoons when a character would fall apart in chunks? That’s what happened to this guy. He fell apart in chunks and ended up on his all fours, sobbing on my office floor.

Then, I saw it happen. His body stiffened. He pushed up from the floor, rising from devastation to strength and purpose. He stood up, no longer defeated, but a man ready for battle.

Wiping his eyes, he looked at me and said, “This isn’t God’s will for my family.” He got back on the couch next to his wife, took her by the hand and said, “This isn’t how our story ends. I’m not going to do this to our kids. I’m not going to do this to us.”

This is still one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my ministry. One moment, everything is dead. The next? Everything is alive. One moment, there was no hope and the next? A marriage, a family, a future were on their way to being restored.

A little Easter.

I’ve seen this too many times in my life. An alcoholic puts down the bottle. An embezzler returns the money. Despairing people are suddenly filled with hope. Churches who began the meeting talking about dissolving and selling the building find themselves talking about mission and purpose. They agree to get back together and see what they can work out not to keep the church open, but how best to serve their community – a little Easter.

Life from death, hope from despair – Easter happens all the time.

This past Sunday, I was glad to preach the Easter message about women coming to an empty tomb. I was glad to proclaim Jesus is alive and waiting to meet us on the various roads we all walk. I was glad to preach about Easter on Sunday, because Monday was coming and I would need Easter again.

I believe in Easter. I believe Christ rose from the dead. Not only do I believe in Easter, I also believe in all of the little Easters that will happen until He returns. He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

This essay was first posted in Scot McKnight’s newsletter.