Earthquakes, angels, women running to and fro, a strange command. A highly unlikely tale. Yes, indeed, and that’s the point. Nobody thought in the first century, and nobody should think now, that the point of the Easter story is that this is quite a reasonable thing to happen, that dead people really do rise if only we had the wit to see it, that it should be quite easy to believe it if only you thought about it for a few minutes.

No. It was always a strange, crazy, wild story. What else would you expect if, after all, the ancient dream of Israel was true? If the God who made the world had finally acted to turn things around, to take all the forces of chaos, pride, greed, darkness and death and allow them to do their worst, exhausting themselves in the process?

If Jesus of Nazareth really was, as the centurion (greatly to his own surprise, no doubt) found himself saying three days before, ‘the Son of God’? What else would you expect? A calm restatement of some philosophical truths for sage old greybeards to ponder – or events which blew the world apart and put it back in a new way?

N.T. Wright, Lent for Everyone: Matthew, Year A

What were you expecting?

 

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This is the one who patiently endured many things in many people:

This is the one who was murdered in Abel, and bound as a sacrifice in Isaac,

and exiled in Jacob, and sold in Joseph,

and exposed in Moses, and sacrificed in the lamb,

and hunted down in David, and dishonored in the prophets.

 

This is the one who became human in a virgin,

who was hanged on the tree, who was buried in the earth,

who was resurrected from among the dead,

and who raised mankind up out of the grave below to the heights of heaven.

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God has been murdered

Synchroblog Recap

Chris —  April 11, 2014 — Leave a comment

Thanks again to all those who participated in this week’s synchroblog. The entries were all thoughtful and heart felt. I hope you’ll join us next time!

Here’s a quick recap:

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Check out the Boots on the Ground Facebook page to see all the different posts in this series.

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The night it felt like Church to me happened in the Summer of 2002. I was a sophomore in college and I had given my summer to working with Dry Bones: Denver, a newly launched ministry to the homeless youth that congregate to panhandle and roughhouse on Denver’s 16th Street Mall.

My reasons for being there weren’t completely altruistic, evangelistic or justice driven. That was a part of it, but the main reason I wanted to be there was because it seemed pretty cool.

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There was a thing that happened on the internet, in DC and in the poorest countries on earth last week.

A lot of people were hurt. A lot of people felt the need to draw line in sand. There are a few dead bodies on mountain tops.

I’m not one of them.

There are two reasons I’m not overwhelmed by this:

  1. I’ve never really understood evangelicalism.
  2. Handing out bacon keeps me busy.

 

bacon shot

 

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