On my daily exercise excursion out of the flat today – my shoes wearing like quicksand as my feet pounded the golden sands of Essex’s Sunshine Coast – I wallowed in thoughts of the present and it’s potential to become the future. Like a bug plastered and now dried on a windscreen, its edges slowly spreading to take up more of the view ahead as each attempt is made to wipe it from view, thoughts of many more days ahead that are indistinguishable from the one that has just past. Days spent alone with my mental meanderings, wondering what normal will become.
As I ran I looked out across the North Sea. It’s murky waters somehow still beautiful in their gentle movement, their subtlety, their endlessness.
I was reminded of the significance of this day; the day a movement began. A movement that has brought great hope to many and yet has also been used to cause great despair, hopelessness and marginalisation to many others.
I reflected on the renewed hope that I have found in fresh ways of understanding this Resurrection Sunday; the day a revolution began. Today has greater significance for me as I understand the invitation it offers to join Christ’s revolution of restoration. My hope no longer lies in the nebulous concept of eternal salvation – this belief still both at once unfathomable and yet significant – but in the opportunity to live a resurrected life in the here and now, in the flesh. A very physical revolution in all its rawness, roughness, gentleness, softness, sensuousness.
To see and create beauty.
To seek justice for the planet and those with whom I share her.
To share and celebrate stories of hope.
To contribute to the risen Christ’s restorative revolution, creating heaven on earth.
His kingdom come.
His will be done.
On Earth as it is in Heaven.
Amen
Yalatja 