The Hard Work of Transformation

Easter happened. About two thousand years ago. Easter happened. Five days ago. How has the world changed? How have I changed?

Sunday was both a wonderful and bitter day for me. Wonderful because I was able to put on a cute purple dress and go to a job which I believe to be crafted specifically for me and my enjoyment. I was able to laugh with friends, exchange hugs with church members and smile at visitors. Our worship services were majestically beautiful, not because of our own crafting, but because the presence of God filled our sanctuary, and our hearts, in a way that broke through the pain and suffering of the outside world.

Bitter because Sunday was the day our beloved pastor of 25 years said goodbye. A much-deserved retirement, leaving us with a much-felt emptiness that seems to be engulfing itself within an even deeper void.

But whether wonderful or bitter, Easter happened. Jesus was resurrected from the dead, was transformed, and lives today to show us that we too can be made new and created into the people we were intended to be.

Transformation -- well, that's where the hard work begins. You see, transformation rarely, if ever, occurs during the "good" days of life. Rather, as with Jesus, transformation occurs after our lives have been destroyed. Before we are made new, we must first die. Our hearts are
  shattered when those who claim to love us on Palm Sunday shout "Crucify!" on Friday. Our emotions are numbed when we experience betrayal that is beyond any pain we thought imaginable. Our spirits are broken as doubt appears to threaten our faith and we see the storm clouds of the unknown forming in the distance.

When we are destroyed, struck down, transformation is hardly the goal towards which we direct our thoughts. When we are lying in the dark tombs of life, our thoughts tend to be wrapped around our pain, our uncertainty, our anger and fear. The biggest question that tends to fill our minds is this: "Will I ever feel 'ok' again?"

Be encouraged! This question has the potential to lead us towards transformation! This is the question that tells us that in these moments life is not what it should be, and that life is crying out to be transformed! The most beautiful part of this is that transformation does not occur because we rise up, dust ourselves off, put on a stern face of resolve and move forward with life. Rather, transformation occurs as we sob, broken heart in hand, and cry out to God as we offer our shattered life to God's transforming work. Transformation occurs when we release our tears, abdicate the throne we think we deserve as kings and queens of life, and allow the truth and freedom of Christ to rule in our hearts.

A common, yet still powerful, metaphor for transformation is that of the butterfly. We all learn that a caterpillar   locks himself into his cocoon, says goodbye to the world  he has known, and disappears into that cocoon, blocking himself off from the effects of the outside world. When he emerges, he is beautiful, unrecognizable. But I can imagine that if we were to get close enough to the caterpillar, and close enough to the butterfly, we might recognize the glimmer in his eyes. This creature is still the same creature, still the same soul, yet has been transformed into his ultimate state of being, the one with gorgeous colors, widespread wings that will allow him to fly into places that were once unaccessible to his short legs and tiny flightless form.

But do not forget, the caterpillar does nothing in the process of transformation, other than yield himself to it. Fearlessly, he enters that cocoon, trusting that his Creator will provide the means for emergence as a new creation that is more beautiful and free than the caterpillar could ever be by his own doing.

Easter really happened. Easter continues to happen because Easter, the Risen Christ, is the proof that by God's power we can all be transformed, and made new. Our wounds can be healed and life can be restored. Do not fight the moments of destruction, because they come regardless of our endless struggle for happiness. Rather, when our hearts, emotions and spirits have been laid to rest by the cruel cries of punishment shouted by the world, we lay ourselves down, rest in the loving arms of God, and allow the power of the Holy Spirit to create in us new and beautiful creations, limitless in freedom, limitless in love.

And he calls me daughter.....

Mark 5:35 -- "He (Jesus) said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.'”

Daughter....yesterday morning, in the midst of the Scripture reading in worship, that one word struck my heart in a way akin to the shocking spray of cold water to the skin that is burning on a hot summer's day. The word washed over me in relief, but also stung my parched heart. 

Daughter...how I long to hear Christ call me Daughter. I have heard him call my name....Stefanie.....In those moments, when he identifies me, when he calls me, I know that I am known by him. I know that I am on his mind, and in his heart.

Daughter...this word adds another dimension. I am on God's mind and in God's heart. But this word also brings me into God's family. This word makes me believe that I am more than just known....I am loved. This word reminds me that God cares for me, as one who comes from the Divine DNA.

Daughter...given good gifts from the Father. Given only good things. Given the egg, and not the scorpion. So often I cry for the scorpion, I want the scorpion, and when I am given the egg, I protest. Like a rebellious teenager, I cry, I pout, I scream, and I accuse God of forgetting me.

Daughter...this woman in Mark was suffering from a chronic illness. Desperate, she broke all moral, social, and religious code by touching the robe of a man who was not in her family. But instead of reprimand, she received adoption. She was healed, and she was brought into the family of God.

Daughter....this is what I need. This is what we all need. To feel God's power roar through our bodies as though we are standing still while the universe passes by at the speed of sound, leaving us renewed, transformed. This is what we all need, to be engulfed into the family of God, without condition, without qualification.

"Daughter, go in peace and be relieved from your suffering."

33 A.D. -- The Desire For Resurrection

This is my first attempt at blogging after an almost four-year hiatus. I have titled my blog “33 A.D.” for a reason. Not just a cute religious play, not simply because Cadbury Eggs line the shelves indicating the nearness of Easter. No, my reason goes much deeper.

You see, less than a month ago, I turned 33. And two months ago, my life turned into something I never expected. Hopes were crushed, dreams were shattered, hearts were broken, and the wreckage has now become too deep to escape.

So, here I am, age 33, in need of resurrection. In need of life. Needing to feel my heart beat yet again. I’m in good company. There was another, one who loved so deeply, yet in the end, was left alone. In his love he emptied himself out. In his love, he faced death. His life seemed to end at age 33 as well. But three days later……

Is it Friday night for me? Am I only minutes removed from my death, body still warm? Is it Saturday morning? Numbness and stagnation have set in? Or, is it Saturday night? Am I on the verge of being transformed? Do I only have one more night of the lonely tomb to endure before I will once again rise, before the blood begins to pump, before the bloody wounds are mere scars, before my feet feel the ground and my hands feel the blowing wind?

I don’t know….it is 33 A.D. Resurrection is coming, I am sure of that. This is my journey through the dark damp tomb. This is my journey to return to the light, to enter into the garden, to walk towards the Emmaus Way, back to my community, back to my purpose, back to my God.