Paintings Along the Gallery Wall

Our faith paints a picture of a candle-lit supper, a dark prayer garden with audible moaning, a jail cell and guards laughing outside, the gathering clouds of a storm, terrifying blackness at mid-day, nail-pierced suffering, a heavy tomb door being rolled shut. One might say that that is as far as the efforts and folly of natural men will go.

But something is percolating and out of view. The earth imitates the process with new birth all around. Resurrection is coming. The incomparable sunlight of Easter Morn’. The return of the Dear Friend and the celebration of reunion. His promises all were true. The winter of our hearts is defeated. Death and loss have been vanquished.

I remember preparing a message years ago for some young people at a YMCA Good Friday breakfast. It was intended that I take them to another room while the adults received a full-fledged sermon. I kept thinking about the mystery of the barnyard egg. Careful now, it may break into translucence and golden yolk. But in a few days, there will be transformation into that delightful fluffy chick, peeping merrily at the new day. Could the Resurrection be any more unreasonable than that, any more spectacular? God is all over the translation. God is in charge. At the moment of realization in those kids, the “ping” was almost audible.

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Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

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