Connected in Story: The End and Beginning

In Which We Find That Hope Wins…

I have been thinking a lot about what I’ve learned in the last 7 weeks. Lent is a time for contemplation, and here on the blog, I’ve done that through the lens of my favorite stories. I have been reminded that relationship and connection is the glue that holds our stories together. I have been marinating in the idea that authenticity and vulnerability are the gateway to connection.

We need one another. We are literally built to connect with God and one another and creation. But that is hard, y’all. From the very first time we sense judgement or feel afraid of being unloved, we begin to armor up and hide the bits of ourselves that are most Real.

It takes raw courage to take off that armor, and some of us spend a lifetime trying to uncover who we are.

On Easter Sunday, as my pastor prayed, she used the phrase “Easter people.” I’ve heard that phrase before, but it hit me differently this year. I started to consider what that looks like practically. First, here is the truth: being Easter people does not mean everything is easy and happy all the time. Being Easter people is not about the cute springy clothes we wear on that Sunday or the perfectly decorated Easter baskets we give.

I think being Easter people is more like an egg hunt. It is holding our empty baskets and hoping to find something beautiful. It is looking behind bushes to find that thing you know is there, but you can’t quite imagine yet. It is seeing that purple egg just beyond your reach and asking your friend to help you. An egg hunt takes work and persistence and not giving up until the last egg is uncovered. It is hope embodied.

All of our hope hangs on Easter. Easter Sunday is the day that the darkness and somber tone of Lent turns to hopeful expectation. We have hope because of the resurrection, because Jesus showed us that death does not have the final word. We see it every spring: the cold and dark of winter fades away, and life begins to break through. Trees bud and birds sing and baby animals are born. Life wins. Hope wins.

Now I have to be absolutely honest here. Life does renew itself. AND also suffering leaves its mark. Both/And. Both are true and both exist in the same place. Jesus showed us that. Yes, he lived again, but there were still scars. The joy of resurrection did not erase the trauma and suffering of “good” Friday. Suffering marks us - not just with scars but also with compassion and understanding. We are different people when we walk through the valley of Lent and come out on the Easter side. That is why it is so important that we do not rush our way to Easter without the Lenten journey. God knows our propensity for seeking the easy way to happiness. Because of God’s kindness and grace, we are given the option of the slow and contemplative route to Easter.

We have been talking about stories this season - especially the way our story fits into The Story. Last week, I talked about Frodo and Sam. About their friendship and the way Sam held his friend in his darkest moments until the struggle ended. Today I want to remind you that your story matters. Hope wins in you. Hope in the middle of our struggles bring transformation and new life. God is present with you as you are writing your story.

I will leave you with one last quote to finish our series. In it, we see Frodo and Sam, battle-worn and looking for some sign of hope to hold on to. We need this hope. We embody this hope as Easter people.

Frodo: I can’t do this Sam.

Sam: I know. It’s all wrong

By rights we shouldn’t even be here.

But we are.

It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo.

The ones that really mattered.

Full of darkness and danger they were,

and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end.

Because how could the end be happy.

How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened.

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow.

Even darkness must pass.

A new day will come.

And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

Those were the stories that stayed with you.

That meant something.

Even if you were too small to understand why.

But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand.

I know now.

Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t.

Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam?

Sam : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

My friends, live your hope-filled stories. When the hope is hard to find, remember that hope and love and life always win, not matter how hard it is to find them in the Lenten desert days. May we live as Easter people.