I'm not a scholar. Not a historian, nor a scientist, nor an archaeologist. I have nothing but a lowly Bachelor's Degree in English, and even for that, I'm not particularly well read. I do recognize a good story though.
I suppose you could (possibly even fairly) say that I believe the Bible because I am ignorant. You might be right. You might be wrong.
I'm tired, and I've been sick, and I don't really want to get into some big defense of why I see things the way I see them, and why I could possibly think that I, of all people, might be able to discern what is true.
Tomorrow is Easter, and here is what I am thinking about:
Happy endings follow terrible events.
In fact, you never even know how happy you can be, until you have experienced a loss of happiness and had it returned. This is the truth, and I know it because I have seen it and experienced it, hundreds of times.
Stories are not any good without a conflict and a resolution. Such is the basic pattern of every story. Something goes wrong, and somehow this changes things fundamentally. Some stories do not have a happy ending, and yet, even in stories where the main characters die tragically and the world is left scarred, the author almost always ends with some sort of poignant hope, veiled though it may be.
The human spirit hopes. The human spirit hopes, and hope is from God, and hope is fulfilled in Jesus. Those who turn to Jesus, to the light, to life and hope and joy and peace, those people will see a happy ending.
The Bible is the Best Story, the story of God, who created all things and infused His creation with beauty, love and great expectation. Because it is a story, the Best Story, a problem had to arise: betrayal, separation, brokenness. The Bible word for this problem is sin. Adam and Eve brought sin and death into their perfect world, separating themselves from their perfect, holy Creator.
Throughout the Best Story, time after time, God reaches into His broken creation with signs of hope, words of hope, promises of restoration. Over many, many centuries, smaller stories come together from the quills of many different writers, and these stories all fit together, sometimes creating patterns, telling simplified versions, partial versions of the amazing rescue to come. Sometimes they give hints or present riddles; always, they remind of the promise of a Savior. These little stories that fit together to tell the Best Story show us people just like us, people who make mistakes, people who do things that are stupid (and sometimes even wicked), people who are not particularly strong or smart or special. When they stray from the Lord they are worthless, but when they cling to Him, He makes them invincible.
Like all the good stories, The Best Story has a climax. Easter is the climax. God Himself, having taken on mortal flesh, surrenders to a ghastly execution. The glorious One who dreamed up the universe and spoke it into existence stood silent as deluded men whipped Him, swore at Him, spit on Him, pressed a ring of thorns over his His head and into His temples, and finally nailed His hands and feet to a cross of wood and stood it on a hill where crowds could mock and jeer at His suffering. The sky turned black at midday, and Jesus Christ the Lord God died.
It was terrible. All those who had believed in Him figured they must have been wrong. Devastation, loss and despair reigned for three days.
But, on the third day, early in the morning, the most amazing thing happened. There was a resurrection. It happened mysteriously, and the dawning of understanding came slowly. Nevertheless, the stone in front of the tomb had been rolled away. The tomb was empty. Angels appeared, saying things like, "He is not here, He has risen!" And finally, He started to appear here and there, Himself, talking to His friends, reassuring and offering hope.
There is hope. This is the Real Story, the story all other stories try either to emulate or to obfuscate. No matter how bad it gets, we can always hope, because God is here, alive, attentive, almighty. It's going to be okay. If we can just hang on through the dark night, joy comes in the morning. Every winter that turns into spring, every baby that arrives after a painful labor, every sunrise after a sleepless night reminds us of the same story: God plans good for us in the end.
There are a lot of stories in circulation that aren't true, but the truth is, there is a God. He loves His creation, and He is working on the most glorious rescue operation ever. It's going to take us all of eternity in heaven to study all the intricacies of His plan to bring His will to pass, all the millions of plot threads that He wove together for our ultimate joy and His surpassing glory.
It is going to be amazing. It is going to be so good.
Please read Psalm 30.
Spring is coming slowly this year, but I'm holding on. All I've got blooming is crocuses (it's the first year we haven't had Easter daffodils since we moved here). But the crocuses are nice:
And here is my bleeding heart, which came back, even though it never bloomed last year . . .
If you liked this, here's another Easter post you might enjoy (from last year).
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