“I’ve never met a sixty-year-old who believes all the same things in every respect that he did when he was thirty. Not one. Beliefs change. So let’s not be too dogmatic at any age. We might very well be arguing with a future version of our own selves.”
I attempted to explain the resurrection to my kids a couple of weeks ago, that it’s more than a historical event we celebrate- Jesus rising from the dead. There are more profound implications for our lives. But all that I could spit out were a few words on change, how we fear the different, how we don’t like the way life keeps propelling us into new and strange places.
My oldest son began to understand and asked in a concerned tone, “Will we always live in this house?”
The two younger ones chimed in expressing similar worries as their brother.
“No, we won’t stay here forever,” I said calmly. “Eventually we will move from this house. I know it’s sad to think about and hard to imagine right now, but when the time does come it will also feel exciting, and like a good next step.”
I went to bed that night kicking myself for my muddled-up talk on how I thought the Easter story influences our life here on Earth. Surely, I had confused their little minds, maybe a simple, Sunday school answer would have been better.
A few days later, though, I found myself breathing a sigh of relief when I heard the phrase, “Resurrection is change.”
Maybe my poetic efforts to describe the extent of resurrection wasn’t as far-fetched as I originally thought.
Could it be that our whole life is meant to be in continuous motion, an unceasing adventure toward greater and greater love?
The facts are evident aren’t they? Life is constantly turning over and over, taking on new shapes, flowing onward, usually without our permission.
And so is our faith.
I’ll say it again: And so is our faith.
I think every part of our being wants to run after resurrection.
“Wait…I thought I’d always live here.” And suddenly, I am still a seven-year-old fraught with fear over the slightest thought of change. We like to throw down our pack, get in our groove, and make it our mission to defeat any and all disruptions to our unspoken plans and long held beliefs.
I feel the resistance in me to outright deny the sacred pattern stamped into the universe from the beginning, “Keep coming. Keep seeking. Keep exploring.”
I sense the pull toward resurrection every day, in my relationships, attitudes, my work, and yet I try and avoid it with all my might. I am no fool. The path of resurrection implies accepting hundreds of little deaths. I will need to leave, evolve, move on, climb up, go down, spin around, adapt, and repeat.
Tears, darkness, uncertainty are a part of rolling back the stone on our tombs, the cozy places we thought we’d dwell in forever.
One area I’ve (reluctantly!) welcomed the invitation to a kind of death is in my theology, my spirituality, my faith, my beliefs about God. (However you want to label it.)
I have been hesitant to share this through my words, although you may have noticed some hints over the past year in this online space. My theology has roots stretching into every aspect of who I am, how I view the world and relate to other people, and my purpose to name a few. Much to my dismay, it leaves no part of my life untouched.
So, what does one do when she realizes her house, the one she’s been living in for decades, isn’t the place she wants or needs to be anymore?
I can’t tell you what’s the perfect way forward through such a complex transition, but I’d love to be more open about some of my experiences. Although strange and difficult indeed, resurrection is evident everywhere, even in the midst of what some might call a deconstruction.
It all started with a few inclinations, innocent questions, childlike curiosity, and then it progressed. I began to wander around the block, eyeing other houses and neighborhoods, and eventually setting out into the wild without a map or any idea where I would end up.
All I knew, was I was being compelled to move, allured by Love, and I couldn’t resist the change, the impending death. I had to keep running toward resurrection.
I’d love to hear what questions you’ve been asking lately? What areas of your life do you sense a pull to explore the wild?
Also, I’ll be sending out weekly-ish letters called the Wild Walk starting soon! If you’re a subscriber you’ll get a free Guide to Growing Wild In Your Own Backyard as soon as you sign up! Go here to join us, scroll down the page and enter your email.