Religion

The Lenten season has ended. Christians are in the throes of Easter bliss. Resurrection is the name of the game. It calls us to a new awareness of life and love experienced as church.
I’ve been pondering those words for a long time. What does it mean to call myself a religious person, a Christian? What does it mean to gather as church? Is it a Sunday-only party celebrated with those who share a common understanding of God? Is it an exclusive club whose membership is limited to those who follow the rules and regulations, who proclaim a specific doctrine or dogma?

The Gospel presents us with a message that is hard to swallow and even harder to live.
We are told some folks wanted to see Jesus. Obviously, that request was more than a simple desire to view a celebrity. Some folks had decided they were ready to meet, greet and hopefully follow this man who was a renowned healer, a man who seemed not to mind being with undesirable people.

I don’t know about you, but I have heard the words “the truth will set you free” many times in my life. Most often they fall from the lips of my darling husband as he both encourages and challenges me to speak truth to power. He also adds, “but it may hurt you in the meantime, for a little while.”
That’s the part that puts fear into my heart. Who wants to hurt or be hurt? Who wants to feel the isolation and alienation that too often comes with speaking the truth? I surely don’t. I cringe at the possibility.

Perhaps it comes as a result of seeing “Damn Yankees.” Or, maybe it was the way I was moved by viewing “The Ghosts Of Mississippi” a few days later, but all I can see and hear in the Scriptures, especially during Lent, is “heart!”