Easter Sunday with the Tattooed Mnister

I am not sure if you saw, but this morning’s sunrise was a good one. At least it was in my neck of the woods . . .
I know that some of you—or at least one of you will struggle on this morning, and your reasons for struggle are valid.
As well, I know that the memory of our lost loved ones, the mistakes we have made in the past, or the recollection of broken relationships, regardless to fault, or whether the memories are good, bad, loving, or beautiful; they can also be painful and separate us from the meaning of this day. But truly, I say the meaning of today is such that whoever believes shall not perish, but have the light of life.

The same as I can relate to anger and heartache, I can also relate to the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. I can relate to cynicism and pessimism, as well as disbelief, and the hesitations that come as a reaction to fears or insecurity.
I know the weights of pride and envy, as well as the darkness of feeling unwanted or irredeemable. Most, I understand that doubt wears heavy on the shoulders of those who wear it—so if I may, and if you are truly willing, please allow me to relieve you.

I cannot solve the riddles of life on life’s terms, nor can I ease the sadness of a lost child, or cure the heartbreak of a passing loved one. And though I have faith, I understand that my faith alone cannot always heal the sorrow of those who moved from this life to the next, nor will it soften the blow of life’s dishonesties or betrayal.
However, today is the spring of life. Today marks the resolution or promise that The Son of Man has come, died, and he has been resurrected, three days after being crucified on the hill of Golgotha.

The dictionary defines hope as the feeling that what is wanted can be had . . .
I say hope is a glimpse of light amidst the darkness. I say hope is the spirit of faith, which survives amongst the surrounding of doubt, and even in its smallest state, the light of hope has the power to drown even the deepest of darkness.
Today marks the resurrection of hope. And whoever shares this hope and holds it deep within, though they may weep or weaken, and though they may trip or fall, they too shall truly see through the eyes of the spirit.

Like anyone, I stumble and fall. I often lose to the wrong influence of sin. I ache and I hurt. I have questions and resentment. But I also I have faith and hope, and I depend on that faith and hope as a fashion of strength, so that when the world moves as it does, and even when I fail or when my life turns wrong—I still believe in the power of faith, and as sure as I stand, I still believe in the benefit of hope.

I do not see my hope as a way to dismiss reality, nor do I see my faith as an expectation that I will be redeemed without effort or resurrected without being tested. I see my faith and hope as bravery amongst the loud whispers of doubt. Yes, I see them as sheep amongst the wolves; however, I also see them as attributes. And though I feel pain and though I may bleed, I know that somehow, I will be always healed. But I will not be healed by faith alone.

Faith is only a seed, but a seed unplanted or uncared for can do nothing but shrivel from life or perish as it dissolves in the ground. And so long as I breathe, or so long as I have faith and hope, I know that I have the ability to find my way, to overcome, and I know that I will have the strength to grow beyond anyone’s measure—including my own

These are my words for today

Enjoy your Easter, folks

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