When I was a very small child I was concerned about the wood grain pattern on the closet door. It looked a little human-ish I thought and I preferred not to look at it too much.
As I got older my fears became more "sophisticated." It's been a very long time since I worried about a monster in the closet. If I worry at all, it's probably about the world my grandchildren will inherit. Will it be a place worth living in, or will humankind despoil this lovely planet by thoughtless consumption and insecure wall-building?
Many of you know that I spent the first days of March visiting UCC Global Mission partners in the Middle East. Our group - conference and regional ministers from across the UCC and the DOC along with the General Minister and President of both denominations - visited courageous men and women who follow Jesus in situations that make my life challenges look like a Sunday School picnic. We visited Syrian refugees living in second-hand UN tents only a couple kilometers from the Syrian border. We visited a Palestinian family in Ramallah whose 15 year old son had been killed by a sniper. We saw young Palestinian males accosted by Israeli police for no discernable reason and a middle aged Palestinian woman reduced to tears by an encounter with other security personnel.
These people have reason to fear.
It seems that another manifestation of my privilege is how little I have to fear. My life is mostly safe and ordered.
Which is, perhaps, a danger itself. I suspect that too much security squashes faith. Who needs God when everything seems under control?
Maybe the thing I need to fear is my security and privilege - that between the two of them they'll diminish my affection for Jesus to extinction.
Consciousness of fear, I think, isn't really the problem. Whether we recognize it or note, we've all got something to fear. It's what we do with our fear that matters. Fear, it seems, can drive us into despair or manipulation, or perhaps it can drive us into the arms of a loving God.
The angel knew all this, I suppose. And in the face of a myriad reasons to fear, it counsels that we open our eyes and contemplate the empty tomb.
I think during my days in the Middle East I was looking into the empty tomb....and it wasn't the shrine in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. No....I contemplated the empty tomb when I encountered women and men who cared not for differences of age, race and religion, and instead showed their faith in and love for Jesus by doing justice and loving with kindness - and in so doing walking humbly with God.
It seems that Christ is risen indeed! By divine grace I will do as I was instructed by those who gifted me with their passion for justice and grace and kindness.
