Nevertheless, Resurrection Persists

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” — 1 Peter 5:10

(An excerpt from an essay, written 7/3/2019)

Finally, I lifted my cup.

I paused to reflect on those sacred breaths that were still entering and escaping my lungs, then I drank to the life of Christ.

Having joined my spiritual family, I was yet analyzing my earlier experience; the bread and juice joined together, and I invited the Spirit to continue working within my heart. The Body, which was broken for my transgressions, and the Blood, which was spilled for my liberation — marvelous, marvelous.

With my hand tangled up in the faithfulness of God, I worshipped him with all the authority of those stepping from the back corners of that upper room at Pentecost.

I’ve learned to trust in the absence of evidence, but worshipping alongside evidence of the Divine feels particularly rewarding after a year of moving between the Cross and the tomb.

It truly is life unto life.

As a sacrament, the Eucharist has taken on new meaning in my theology in recent years. Perhaps it’s due to my varied influences, but the profundity of meeting together at the Table to share in the life and death of Jesus is an experience that resonates with me more than any other form of worship. Unfortunately, the evangelical movement has informally relegated the practice to varsity status, even though its role in the early church is a clear indicator that it was more than just a yearly occurrence.

It’s more than just a tradition in my theology: it’s a sacred gathering to celebrate the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. It’s a full-throated refutation of the power of sin and a sacred reminder that love is stronger than any force that rises against it.

I’ve inhabited every corner of that narrative over the past year. I’ve felt the blood drain from my spiritual bones on more than one occasion. I’ve wondered how God might hoist my barren frame from the grave of doubt, fear, and deconstruction. Yet, the strength of resurrection has never condemned me to perpetual isolation. A key theme from last year [2018] is the sheer number of times that God reminded me that resurrection supersedes death — and I believe it now with every fiber of my resurrected soul.

And it’s marvelous, marvelous, friends.