"He is risen. He is risen, indeed!" As a kid, this popular phrase and it's rejoinder was a favourite of the Easter Sunday service. The congregation always said it with such gusto, and the very enthusiasm of the people swept me along in a sort of current of joy. The fact that I didn't understand the significance was immaterial.
As an adult, I still enjoy coming together with my community of faith to celebrate the resurrection. It's about new hope, the power of beginnings, and the ability to believe in something that we cannot see but feel deep in our spirits. I love how much my faith has evolved and changed over the years. I enjoyed struggling to explain the crucifixion and resurrection to William in language he could understand. I firmly believe that faith is not about having the answers, but rather the confidence to ask the questions.
If our belief system isn't changing on a regular basis, I would argue that it isn't working the way it should. Nothing in life is static; everything alive is growing and changing all of the time. Our faith should be the same. Gone are the days when I believed everything I was told - now I embrace the process of struggling to own what I think is true.
I love that it doesn't matter to me what other people believe. I can be friends with those who believe like me, and those who don't. It doesn't make any difference at all. I have no interest in convincing anyone of anything. I just want to live my life, as authentically as possible in all areas (not just the ones on public display), and let the chips fall where they may. Being genuine and true is the only thing that lasts. The rest is just talk, and meaningless without action to back it up. Words and actions that don't line up are worse than meaningless; they are irritating and completely turn people away from whatever you are peddling.
I explained to William last night about the cross and the stone and the tomb being empty. He asked questions and I answered them the best I could. I told him about the bridge Jesus made for us all to cross over to God. Death and human frailty are lofty subjects for 4 year olds, but I enjoyed the challenge of using real language, not the "Christianese" I grew up with and always distrusted. There is no point in talking about anything if the conversation is not rooted in reality and honesty. It's not worth the breath to speak unless the words are coming from a genuine place. Every day I'm alive I want to get better at this authentic living, for it's the only thing that will live on after I'm gone.