Resurrection is Happening
Resurrection. When I was growing up, I learned this happened once upon a time in a village far, far away. What I know now is that this extraordinary event is happening. Particularly, in the common everyday workings of our psyche.
The story of Easter has captured me again. It’s a story I see in many places, most easily in the natural world of fallen trees offering life abundant through their death.
Can it be that common? Can something of Biblical proportions be infused within the ordinary? I hope so. I need that story so very much in order to live a bold love today, for my family, my neighbors and the world.
I catch glimpses of this life-through-death pattern in great stories told. My family watched Narnia again this weekend and I returned to this story, the realm of the never-Christmas-always-winter with hopes of believing again in a promise persistent through and greater than crushing, dominating forces.
In my work with clients, I see this pattern play out as we follow a difficult healing path that requires a descent into the stories of life, many of us would rather not face. Yet again and again this way proves faithful, opening up worlds of understanding and emotional freedom locked away behind walls of intelligent resistance.
As people struggle with their lives, wrestling to keep their adaptations in place and avoid pain and suffering, a quiet ache echoes within. A life wanting to be lived, even behind the fortified defense, something stirs the heart, a muffled resurrection.
If adaptations and defenses worked entirely, then the call from our hearts might just die, and there would be a type of rest. Instead, in our avoidance, we live disturbed and dissatisfied.
Why?
Unrelenting resurrection. Not just for Jesus, for everyone. We’re stirred by a force willing to overcome our frozen resolve.
The problem with burying our hearts behind walls is that they still cry out, disturbing our neat and tidy order. Our attempt to control the wild ways of our hearts leads to a deep emptiness that our integrity can not bear, and we are thus discontent.
Little by little as we listen to this disturbance, we can hear a truth emerge that we’re hungry for much more than our adaptations will acknowledge.
As we lower our defenses, practicing an acceptance and open posture to suffering, we allow the natural expanse of our hearts to live. Like Aslan breathing on stone statues, we’re brought back to life. Where indifference and rage have built up walls, tender compassion erodes the foundations built, unearthing a buried desire for fullness of capacity and range.
This is new life. This is resurrection.
Almost to our dismay, resurrection is happening. This persistent life force, this love hunger, aching to make things new, ruins so many living controlled, concealed, and contented lives. The world is aching for a bold love, all of creation is groaning, and with the promise of Easter, life will never quit.
