But Jesus

Lent was difficult this year. I've struggled to connect. I've done the readings mostly faithfully. I've fasted mostly as I committed to fast. I spent much time still contemplating the doubt that sits just off to the side most of the time. The uncertainty of our very society right now. The frustration of so much polarization. 

The pain and relief (both/and) of letting go. The shock and the thrill (both/and) of what I've learned to set down - it is too heavy. The pedastals that have come crashing down (as they should). I've felt disconnected, as I know many of us do right now. 

But this morning, y'all. This morning.

I woke up early, pre-sunrise, put on my fuzzy robe and sat outside on my patio. This is one of my favorite parts of the day once it warms up again. And my first time this spring. As I sat there, expecting the same sense of disconnectedness as I've felt the last long while, I was surprised by....Hope.

Much has been lost.

But Jesus. 

I just can't let go of Him.

And just as He surprised Mary in the garden, He surprised me this morning. With Hope.

And then we gathered. Masked. Distanced. But still, y'all. Faces (okay, eyes) I haven't seen in real life in months. Smiling eyes. Muffled praises raised. Peace passed. Body and blood. The Table. Truth.

I can't let go of Jesus.

I can't let go of those He loves (which is all of us, btw).

I can't let go of the beauty He created and gave us.

Our pastor brought Hope this morning. Here's what stuck tight -- "Any kind of spirituality that makes you less interested in humanity or the world we live in, is not resurrection faith." -- This truth will of necessity bring pain along with it. But also Hope.

If this is a particularly difficult season for you, even still today, I get it. Hold on. 

Hope is coming. And He is good.

Ending with a Rachel Held Evans quote that I think of nearly every single day.

"The apostles remembered what many modern Christians tend to forget -- that what makes the gospel offensive isn't who it keeps out but who it keeps in. I am a Christian, I concluded, because the story of Jesus is still the story I'm willing to be wrong about."