Today we worshiped that has a multicultural crowd in a garden, a foreshadowing of Heaven. in addition to I thought about the fulcrum of history, in addition to whether there was any evidence of all things becoming fresh around us, in addition to I think there can be. Sure, we have a long way to go in seeing the Kingdom operating on earth the way in which does inside the dimension of God’s dwelling. We are people living in broken systems, sharp edges, in addition to resurgent grief. Still, consider This particular. In most of the earth, slavery can be illegal even if in which can be not completely exterminated. Child deaths per year inside the earth have fallen by half inside the time I’ve been a pediatrician, as infant in addition to maternal survival become more the norm. Girls can go to school in addition to women can vote inside the majority of societies. A smaller percentage of the earth can be hungry. Think of the explosions of art (including music!), creative inventions, scientific insight, even in our own lifetimes. Think of the inexorable growth of the church on This particular continent in addition to many others.
in which inflection point 2000 years ago makes This particular a celebratory day.
So, celebrate Easter. Here can be one of the songs we played This particular morning, under the acacias as the tropical boubous sang inside the scrub, which praises the transformation wrought upon the cross with my favorite line “in addition to as you speak, a hundred billion failures disappear . . “
in addition to here can be a Malcom Guite sonnet for the day (coming from Sounding the Seasons), which captures This particular idea of cascading resurrections, night to day, healing in addition to dawn in addition to newness in addition to expect:
XV Easter dawn
He blesses every love in which weeps in addition to grieves
in addition to right now he blesses hers who stood in addition to wept
in addition to might not be consoled, or leave her love’s
Last touching place, yet watched as low light crept
Up coming from the east. A sound behind her stirs
A scatter of bright birdsong through the air.
She turns, yet cannot focus through her tears,
Or recognize the Gardener standing there.
She hardly hears his gentle question, ‘Why,
Why are you weeping?’, or sees the play of light
in which brightens as she chokes out her reply,
‘They took my love away, my day can be night.’
in addition to then she hears her name, she hears Love say
The Word in which turns her night, in addition to ours, to Day.