Passover lamb

I didn't want to let Easter pass without somehow acknowledging the holiday on my blog.

I have been moaning about writer's block for weeks now, but there's comes a moment in every writer's life when he or she must stop complaining and realize that you either have something to say or you do not and your so called "writer's block" is probably due to insecurities or uncertainty about your own thoughts, not the absence of a voice.

Everyone has a voice.

Easter weekend seemed to come early this year. I woke up this Good Friday morning feeling heavy and before I even brushed my teeth, I thought about Jesus Christ, who, though blameless, was charged as a criminal and put to death.

I rolled over and mumbled, "Happy Good Friday" to Damian. He laughed. I asked him why he was laughing, and he explained that no one had ever wished him a happy Good Friday before, that it seemed a strange thing to say.

Strange? Perhaps. But I simply wanted to recognize the day.

Bleary eyed, we made our way to the living room and sat on the couch for a few minutes, as Damian read aloud the story of Jesus' death from the book of John.

A beautiful tragedy that ends with life and hope.

I don't blog about my faith often, because I am weak and I am afraid. I am weak, for I worry what others might think if they know I am a Christian. I am afraid, for I worry that if I try to express my beliefs, my words might be inadequate, or worse, I might say something wrong and lead someone away from God, rather than to Him.

Yet I want to be sincere. I want to be real.

I try so hard to be a cheerful person, but I refuse to pretend as if once you become a Christian you suddenly discover happiness, as if you finally understand the meaning of life.

I often think that the virtue most absent from Christian discourse is honesty. So, let me be honest: I do not have it all figured out. In fact, I have nothing figured out.

I'm still seeking happiness. I'm still seeking the meaning of life.

I do not have a peace that passes understanding.

I worry.

I stress.

I forget to pray.

And when I do pray, I can't help but occasionally wonder if God hears me, if He is real, and if everything I have been taught about Him is true.

I doubt.

At church, I teach little children about God; that he gave us the Bible, that he gave us His Son, and that we can talk to Him anywhere, anytime we like. As I teach children, I remember when I was a child. I remember when I did not worry. I did not stress. I did not forget to pray. I did not wonder if God was real or if He could hear me.

What happened, as I grew older? Some might say good common sense came to greet me. But I say, my common sense left me behind. Children, I think, are far wiser than grown ups.

The faith of a child.

I was once a child. What happened to my faith?

I could not bring myself to blog about colored eggs or cupcakes with bunny ears (though I like both of those things quite a lot) and not mention my faith. Why should I distract myself? I wondered. Why should I distract others, from what really matters?

Easter is Passover, when we celebrate the Passover lamb, the sacrifice of Christ.

God required a sacrifice to save humanity from sin, from death. But why? I don't claim to know for certain, but here's how I think of it: God is completely good and cannot abide with sin. As humans, we sin. A lot.

Yet God loves us and wants to be near us.

And therefore, He ordained one perfect sacrifice, to atone for our sins: Jesus Christ, the one and only solution. We must simply repent and believe that Jesus is alive and that he paid our debt.