Lent 39

Most of my life this was the most important day of the year for me. I was trained and ordained in the Reformed tradition. But my religious lineage is decidedly evangelical. More precisely, it was revivalist and nearly on the fringe of evangelicalism. I have talked more about the blood of Jesus in my life and in my prayers and in my private journal entries than I have probably any other topic under the sun.

It wasn’t until I had started training in the Reformed tradition and was working at a progressive (though highly apathetic) Methodist church, that I realized this. I was a youth director, in charge of the Easter Morning Sunrise service. My friend, roommate, and boss at the time remarked that I had picked more songs about Good Friday than I had about Easter, for us to sing at 6 am, at the top of the hill in Mount Hope Cemetery.

Over the course of the next few years, my “theological orientation” shifted considerably! Easter became my jam. I traded John Wesley for John Calvin. I traded John Eldredge for Jürgen Moltmann. I was becoming.

I guess I am still becoming. Call me a “none” or “spiritual but not religious” if you wish. When pressed I call myself an agnostic with deep, deep sympathies for Religious faith and atheism alike.

But I prefer not to say it. Who doesn’t prefer not to pressed? I think all of this labeling, “othering” of each other and of unexplained things that we call god or the devil, is part and parcel of what it means to be flawed or “sinful” human beings.

I believe in good. And I believe in evil. I don’t know if I believe in relational spiritual entities that have the power or will to intervene or posses. Some days I think the good and the evil that is in the world is just us, the sum of our actions. And some days I think it is more than the sum of our parts.

This used to be the most important day of the year for me.

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