I’m a bad Christian, I guess.
I mean here it is, Easter. The day when Jesus rose from the dead and broke the back of sin forever and made it so we could approach God because through the resurrection of his son our sins are wiped clean. Our debt is paid–literally. Apparently, when Jesus said “It is finished,” what he meant was all accounts were settled, paid in full.
What better day to be joyous? I mean, if you believe all this stuff how could you not be jumping up and down today because it’s the most wonderful day of the entire year?
The answer is, I dunno. I’m just not. Maybe it’s because I’m a Mets fan.
There’s a guy I used to listen to–a guy who is big on Jesus coming with soft footsteps and doing what he did so I could come in front of God and claim that eternal life where there aren’t any more tears. Most of what he said I liked a lot.
Except for when he said it’s inappropriate to be sad in the presence of a loving God. It’s inappropriate to be downcast in the presence of a loving God. It’s inappropriate to be depressed in the presence of a loving God.
A couple years ago, it came out that Mother Theresa lived a life of extreme doubt, that her faith often seemed stale and hollow to her. That God often seemed distant. This is Mother Theresa–a soon-t0-be-saint. She’s like Wonder Woman to God, which would make me Cliff Clavin.
The answer to coming depressed, or downcast, or sad in front of God is that it’s what I am. I mean, I could put on a nice show and act happy. I could mainline Pharrell for a few days and be like a room without a roof. I could paint over the gray exterior of my soul with bright vibrant colors and pretend I’m jovial Guy Smiley.
But don’t you think he knows?
So I am what I am–probably a bad Christian. And I guess that’s what faith is all about–knowing that even when you’re a bad Christian, you aren’t beyond God’s love.
When the prodigal son came back from squandering his father’s money on whores and booze and drugs, the father ran to him. Fathers didn’t run to children in those days. It wasn’t done. The child was to honor the father, not the other way around. And that guy was a bad son.
So if that guy has a father run to him, then I guess it’s okay for me to be in a funk from time to time. Even on Easter.