But today is a day when we celebrate resurrection.
During a powerful message that I heard a few weeks' ago, my church's youth pastor noted that even during painful or challenging circumstances, we can insert the gospel into the equation and rest.
The premise, of course, is that the gospel is power. The gospel changes matters. The gospel -- this good news of Jesus' all-sufficiency -- heals the lame, cleanses the leper, provides for the widow, comforts the afflicted, creates a way when there is no way, redeems from the pit, protects when we're surrounded, and brings dead things back to life.
Yes, indeed, we can insert the gospel into our circumstances and rest. The gospel isn't trite comfort, a band aid being offered for a puncture wound, or a wad of chewing gum to plug a gaping hole when our ship is sinking. Nor is the gospel an "easy" button; God is not genie in a bottle whose sole purpose is to make our problems disappear.
Instead, the gospel is infinite and powerful, holy and unrelenting, effective and essential. It's the nature of God who, although he sees us at our very worst, gave Jesus, his very best, so we could know him.
I took this picture of the sunset last night from my front porch. We have a God who paints the sky, who causes every new day to dawn. This God, he knows us.
Wherever we are today -- whether numb with apathy, riddled with doubt, overcome with sadness, teeming with anger, full of faith, or just coasting along in neutral -- we can be real with God. We can ask God to enter our equations. Insert the gospel. Rest.
On this day especially, we remember that God still is in the resurrection business. We can dare to wait with expectation.