This Day of Resurrection

It was cold in the Emerson Garden adjacent to the church. A brazier was lit to bring a little warmth to those gathered there.

Regardless of the cold, I was glad to be there, gathered with the church, celebrating the miracle of the empty tomb.

Last Easter was marked by the death of my father. The second family death in about six months. I did not sing "Alleluia" but I did have confidence in the Resurrection.

The day my father was buried, a preacher stood to say that he knew that Fred had accepted Jesus. That was a surprise to me. I don't think he ever made such a confession. Of course, what might surprise those who believe that one must make a confession heard by someone "qualified" to hear such things is that it does not matter whether Fred uttered those words.

What matters is that the living God accepted Fred. That is the good news of the Gospel. We are all accepted by God as beloved children. There is no rote confession, no statement of faith worded just so. We are accepted.

This might surprise some reading this. But it won't surprise Jesus. Jesus was, after all, the one sent into the world, not to condemn the world, but to bring us to God.