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The Bizarre Easter Story

The Bizarre Easter Story

If someone were to give an analogy for the Easter story, it’d look something like this:

A zookeeper and his son are on a walk discussing the recent events at the zoo. The zookeeper turns, bends down and says to his boy, “Today, a lion slipped into the llama pen and killed two llamas. Yesterday, another lion killed our koala. Last week, two of them ate the camel. And the week before, it was painted storks and grey herons. And who’s to say for sure who snacked on our golden agouti? The situation has become intolerable. Something must be done. I have decided that the only way the lions can atone for their sins is if I feed you to them.” *

What?

The Easter story is bizarre. There’s supposedly an all-powerful, perfect God who created the whole Universe, except God’s imperfect creation (humanity) rebels against Him in every way possible and God resolves this how? By giving up his perfect Son, a part of himself, to die and save humanity. This defies human logic on so many levels, that if any ordinary guy tried adopting this reasoning, I’d imagine his friends would slap him across the face and tell him to get a grip. But let’s unpack this bizarre Easter story with two questions.

Q1: How badly did humanity screw up for God to resort to send His perfect Son to die? People often point to the resurrection as being a stumbling block for Christianity but if Jesus was truly God the Son, it’s not strange that he, the author of life, should conquer death. Rather, it’s much more startling that he should die at all than that he should rise again. As Charles Wesley wrote, “’Tis mystery all! The immortal dies”. So, creation would’ve had to fail not just a little bit, but a lot for this price to be paid. Idea 1: Humanity sucks, a lot.

Q2: Why did God pay this price? I mean, surely wiping creation out and starting over again would’ve been a more logical approach versus sacrificing your Son? The only answer is simply out of love: pure, unconditional love. If that seems crazy, I don’t blame you – it’s radical, mind-boggling and almost unbelievable. Idea 2: Humans are loved, a crazy big lot.

And yet this Easter weekend, billions of people across the world treat this Easter story as an Easter miracle, with many pointing to the event of Jesus’ resurrection as the basis for their entire life. To me, it seems confusing why anyone would defy logic and accept this bizarre Easter story without a good reason to. Perhaps the ideas from this story give us a clue: that we are more broken and flawed than our wildest dreams, yet at the same time, loved more than we could ever dare hope.


Footnotes
* This analogy was inspired by The Life of Pi.

Restless Searches for Meaning

Restless Searches for Meaning

Disclaimer: The following post is dark, with themes of meaninglessness and suicide rearing their heads. I’ve put off writing this for some time now, but a part of me urged me to do it, partially to confront my own demons, but also to reassure others that they’re not alone in distressing moments. Honestly, my mental health is fine, but episodes like what you’re about to read do occur from time to time; I suspect that for others, this dialogue is hauntingly familiar in little ways. Remember, there is always someone you can talk to: you are not alone.


2am.

Or something around there – I’m not too sure. But it’s definitely been a while since the kindle got put away, the lights got turned off and I hopped into bed, which was around 1:30am. Taking that nap in the afternoon was definitely a mistake, I think to myself.

As the night progresses, still wide awake, something slowly but surely begins clawing its way into my head. It’s my inner darkness, one which loves to do nothing more than throw everything I know and believe into chaos. Usually, I keep a tight lid on it but tonight, my defences are down. The darkness lunges at the opportunity, slithering into my thoughts with its sickly-sweet voice.

Hi Eric, how’s it going? Done anything special recently?

It’s a trick-question, one meant to lower my guard. The best way to deal with this is simply to ignore it and not let the voice get what it wants. But despite my best efforts tonight, the darkness doesn’t let go – perhaps it senses my vulnerability. Finally, I give in.

Look, I have a meeting tomorrow morning and I’d like to sleep right now if that’s alright. Can you go away please?

Oh, so you think your meeting tomorrow is more important than what I’ve got to say to you? No, stay child – and listen carefully.

I already know what’s coming, but before I can shut the darkness away or brace myself, the onslaught begins.

Look here, everything is meaningless. One day, you, your family, your friends and everyone you care about will die and be forgotten. Time and death are two relentless forces that won’t stop for anyone. You know what this means? NOTHING YOU ACHIEVE IN YOUR LIFE WILL MATTER. You’ll be forgotten, just like the billions of people that have died before you. And you think you’ll change the world? Hah, believe me, you’re just nowhere near as special as you think. There are SO many kids smarter, more driven and with better opportunities than you that will go on to achieve successes you could only DREAM about. No, Eric you’re as ordinary as they get. WAKE UP.

Ah yes, good old nihilism. It’s an uncomfortable argument, but one which I’ve come to terms with over time. The dance between us continues, in a variation that’s been played out before.

Well, I see where you’re coming from and indeed, it does seem depressing. However, I believe in a God who created heaven and Earth; one which gives meaning for people’s existence and real value on my own and others’ lives. This means that-

This whole Christian thing again? Let’s be honest, you don’t really believe in God. I mean, when’s the last time you shared the gospel to someone? If you really believed, you’d be declaring the ‘Good News’ to all the corners of the Earth. Yet here you are, living a comfortable and selfish life in your 2-bedroom apartment. You’re as fake as they get, admit it.

Okay, I agree that I could be doing more to share my faith and I’m working on it thanks for the reminder. But I also understand that you don’t have to necessarily tell the gospel to evangelise, and I trust God’s plan to manifest itself in everyone eventually. How-

God’s plan?! How do you even know your God exists? Look at the times you’ve felt closest to God – a death in your family, a close friend’s conversion. It’s just your unconscious responding to emotional experiences: exactly Freudian psychology in motion! Stop using God as a defence mechanism, a replacement father figure, and just come to terms with the truth: life is cruel, meaningless and has no explanation.

Oh, so you want to bring up Freud? You know that psychoanalysis has no credible evidence behind it – can a case study here and there really be applied to everyone? Isn’t believing in psychoanalysis a form of improvable faith in itself?

Oh, tricky, tricky. Look, you can believe whatever you want but I promise you, you’re deluding yourself. You could jump off your balcony head first right now and crack open your skull and the world wouldn’t notice. You’ll be remembered for an infinitesimal amount of time before everyone that cares about you dies as as well, where you become just another number on a stats website for suicide.

So should I just kill myself then? Is that the only path ahead for a nihilist?

The darkness inside me pauses. It doesn’t want to die – not right now. I suspect that under all this bravado, the voice is simply searching for its own sense of meaning. A yearning for a reason behind the suffering, the chaos and the evil in the world we live in. In its pursuit for meaning and realising nothing the world had to offer was enough, part of it resigned itself to nihilism, and now aims to take down the rest of me with it. But I sense some part of the darkness is still desperately hanging onto a possibility of meaning within this space of randomness, which may justify living just one more day.

The voice finally leaves, and I lie silently for a while, still awake. Eventually, after what seems like another hour, sleep manages to find and wrap itself around me, until I finally fall prey into the bizarre world of dreams and nightmares.

To Those I Tried to Evangelise

To Those I Tried to Evangelise

Evangelise.

The act of pushing one’s religion on another person – what a dirty sounding word. It’s a word that says, “Hey, did you know that you’ve got it all wrong? Your worldview is wrong. Your beliefs are wrong. Everything you know is wrong… and guess what? I’ve got it all right.”

For a while, this is how I thought of evangelism. A debate, a battle – no, a war between someone else’s heart and the truth I believed in. When I lost these wars, I felt frustrated. What did I do wrong? Was I too blunt? Too subtle? Too arrogant? For a long time, I prayed. I prayed for wisdom, to understand how to evangelise better.

And then one day, I realised: perhaps there is a better way to evangelise – one that doesn’t require words, because what you need aren’t arguments for a creator. Reasoning and unanswered questions, though perhaps important, aren’t the main forces holding you back.

No, instead of a confrontational opponent, you need a friend who will listen to you. You need someone who will support you through the hard times and who will rejoice with you throughout your successes. You need someone who cares for you – who genuinely cares for you, and who will love you in times other people will not.   

So, I need to rethink evangelism. I need to realise that my words won’t win you over. In fact, I need to accept that until you deny yourself and turn to God, you may not see my faith as anything but foolishness (1 Corinthians 1:18). I pray this time will come soon, friends. But in the meantime, I’ll try using my life, instead of my words, to be a testimony to you.

You can watch how I speak. I hope you will see someone who carefully uses his words to encourage and build people up according to their needs (Ephesians 4:29).

You can watch how I listen. I hope you will see someone who is quick to listen without judgement and who is slow to become angry (James 1:19-20).

You can watch how I work. I hope you will see someone who tirelessly works to do a job well, even in a place where we aren’t treated the way we should be (Colossians 3:23).

But most importantly, you can watch how I fail. Oh friends, you will see me fail in the most terrible and spectacular ways. But throughout these moments, I pray you’ll see where I turn. I hope you’ll see someone who is quick to acknowledge where they fall short and who turns to God to help them become someone better. And I hope when you see me in my better moments, you’ll see that everything good I have comes not from me, but from grace from the perfect God I serve.

Now friends, as I continue to evangelise, I won’t shower you with arguments or Bible verses to convince you of anything. Instead, I’ll try to live in a way that shows you why I live the way I do. Why I believe in a God who is loving and powerful in unimaginable ways. Why I believe there is a reason for the suffering and evil in the world. Why I believe life is beautiful, and so are you. And I pray that God will work in all of you, so that when you see my broken yet miraculous life, you might question my actions and begin exploring some of these incredulous ideas yourself.


The piece above was inspired by an article I read here, which had a tremendous impact on me. After writing this, I was reminded of a verse which I thought fit in quite nicely with the overall theme.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
Fiction, “Sonder” and the Church of Ephesus

Fiction, “Sonder” and the Church of Ephesus

Over the last two months, I’ve begun reading fiction. During this time, I’ve gone through six fiction novels including the works of Haraki Murakami’s ‘Kafka on the Shore’ and Gail Honeyman’s ‘Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine’. I’m not entirely sure why I got into fiction in the first place, but I think this video from John Fish (one of my favourite YouTubers) was a big reason for it.

At first, reading fiction was a little uncomfortable. Fiction encourages you to leave behind whatever prejudices or views you might have and let yourself be taken on this wild ride predetermined by the author. However, during this ride you see the world through new lenses and glimpse parts of human nature you were previously unaware of. And this happens in such a powerful way, surely more powerful than any non-fiction book could ever accomplish. It’s one thing to provide a compelling gold-standard study on the devastating effects of loneliness but something very different indeed to have experienced just how harrowing loneliness can be through the first-person eyes of a character.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from reading fiction, it’s that no matter how ‘ordinary’ somebody may seem, everyone has their own burdens, goals and views that make their lives every bit as complex as mine. I think the word sonder depicts this feeling in a much more eloquent way. I came across this word a few weeks ago when I was reading the weekly newsletter of Tim Ferriss and is now one of my favourite words. From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, sonder is defined as:

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

And this brings me to last week during my fortnightly Bible study with my pastor. We’re going through the book of Revelation and in Chapter 2, we are introduced to seven churches that John the apostle is writing to on behalf of Jesus. The first of them is the Church of Ephesus, and John begins by telling them that Jesus is aware of the good deeds they are doing – and they’re pretty good:

“‘I know your works, your toil and your
patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil,
but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and
found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and
bearing up for my name's sake, and you have not grown weary. 

But then verse 4 comes with the critique Jesus has for Ephesus:

But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you
had at first.

Reading this verse really resonated with me. There’s no doubt about it: right now, if I were truly honest with myself, I love myself more than I love God or the people around me. And while this is hard to admit, perhaps this sequence of recent events – reading fiction, discovering sonder and going through Revelation – might just be the catalyst I need to re-ignite the love I once had.