Really?
 
You expect me to believe that a man who had been brutally tortured, nailed to two pieces of wood, either suffocated or bled to death and then had a Roman spear jammed into his chest to ensure he was dead, that this same guy is alive?
 
Really?
 
You’re telling me that this same person when taken down from the cross was boneless without any sign of life, then laid in a borrowed tomb that was sealed and protected by Roman soldiers, that this same person is gone from the tomb?  You’re telling me that he is alive?
 
Really?
 
What kind of fool would believe that kind of nonsense?!?
 
Just because you have a bunch of his spineless followers (they did bail on him, right?), that they were suddenly bold proclaimers of this fella being alive and well; you want me to believe them as well?
 
Really?
 
Yeah, yeah; they were willing to suffer horrific deaths themselves just for believing in him, but that isn’t any kind of proof that he is alive, is it?  You really expect me to believe that?
 
Really?
 
Yeah, I heard how one of the most prolific persecutors of his disciples suddenly began telling others that this guy Jesus is alive, that he is a King?  That Saul turned from a successful career as one of the ruling council in Jerusalem to walk the then known world proclaiming this nonsense; is that proof of anything other than one man’s delusion?
 
Come on, really?  What kind of fool do you take me for anyway?
 
Who would be foolish enough to believe such nonsense!?!
 
Whose fool do you take me for?
 
Really?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                                                                           

Have you ever had a day that seemed to drag on and on?  One that you wished would end, but were terrified of what would happen, what would change when it did?  Have you ever just wanted to curl up in a ball and, as the old country song put it, “Make the World Go Away?”
 
By now all of the apostles and the women who had followed Jesus would have gathered together in that same room where the Passover had been celebrated.  No celebration now, only a mind-numbing emptiness as they struggled to understand the inexplicable. 
 
How could he die?
 
Was this all there was after all those years of ministry and learning?  The promise of what seemed a heralding of a new kingdom was now ashes and dust.  How were they to go on?  When would the same religious zealots who had taken their beloved teacher come for them?
 
Fear, darkness, hopelessness…
 
We look back on these huddled, shivering men and women in the light of what we know from Scripture and just shake our heads.  Where is there faith?  How could they have missed the warnings Jesus gave them, but also the promise of his resurrection?
 
Are we then so very different?
 
Whenever tragedy strikes our family when things don’t go according to what we thought they should, do we keep our eyes focused on God’s promises that are all yes and Amen in Messiah?
 
Life, this life we live will be filled with days similar to that one Saturday.
 
Hopelessness, despair, grief will flood our souls and leave us bereft of any joy.  We far too often are ignorant of how God is working as he was on that Saturday; we close our eyes to his possible and cling to our impossible.  We embrace our misery as if a friend when our true friend stands waiting with arms open wide.
 
It’s Saturday, but Sunday is coming…

Good Friday?
 
Really?
 
What’s so good about it?
 
The religious leaders of Israel conspired together and then coerced a lily-livered Roman official to condemn and then torture and execute an itinerant teacher who was innocent of any blame!  We call that good!?!
 
The public humiliation and torture of this guy alone would have been the crime of the century, but they hung him naked to die for all those passing by to mock and pour out their invective upon.  Those men whom he had called and taught for over three years were, except for one youngster, notably absent.  Only some of the women who had followed him were there to watch as the one they love, the one they had believed in was tortured, nailed to two pieces of rough wood, and left to hang before the crowds.
 
They watched him bleed, they listened to his few words spoken only by the horror of lifting himself up so he could take a breath, dragging his savaged back against the rough wood.  They heard the crowds jeers and saw the afternoon grow dark as creation itself seemed to mourn over this travesty of so-called justice.
 
They watched him die…
 
Where was the promise of the early years of his ministry when so many flocked to hear words that seemed to flow from the throne of God?  Were they mistaken to call him Lord?  Wasn’t Messiah supposed to be a King over all kings? 
 
The darkness of their souls mirrors the darkness as the sun disappears…
 
It’s Friday, how can this be called good?
 
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming!
 
 
 
 
 
                                                                                           

A dark day when evil ran amok, and the disciples’ perceptions of what Messiah ought to be ended in a horrific night of betrayal, violence, and terror
 
His plan was NOT their plan
 
All hope is gone after a seemingly never-ending night filled with the mockery of three trials which gave vent to the religious hatred against their friend
 
Now, as the light of day began filtering into the city, hearts and hopes remained dark as many huddled together in the upper room fearing that the religious leaders would come for them next
 
Some followed his agonizing path to Golgotha
 
Horror as the one they thought was the Messiah hung on a Roman cross, so disfigured as to be hardly recognizable as human, bleeding, dying
 
Darkness filled the land, covering the Earth
 
An end to hopes and dreams
 
But God                                                                               
 
 

Recently I agreed to an interview with Alex Guarino to tell ‘my story’ after she heard some of it at an event at Foxes Boxes in Wilmington.  I agreed in the hopes to ‘put a face’  on how so many with felony backgrounds do struggle to find work.  Additionally, I’d hoped to use this platform as a chance to share my testimony of how God’s grace had brought me from darkness to light.  While the portions of the interview left much out and reported that I'd been drafted and sent to Vietnam (something I remember telling her I'd been avoiding by enlisting in the Navy and volunteering for submarines), it was heartening to hear so many positive things from many that had not realized before that my background included a criminal record.

Then on Monday, March 26th, I was advised that my services as a volunteer on the Battleship North Carolina were no longer required, especially if it was in any aspect of my work involving interaction with the public.  Kim Sincox, who’d been the person that I interacted with most as a volunteer, was the person who delivered the message, telling me that it wasn’t anything personal…

Even before I was released from prison, I had begun to realize that my hopes for meaningful work would be an adventure.  As I filled out one application after another for work release, I quickly discovered that my naivete' about finding work of any kind had not prepared me for the rigors of this search.  I assumed that as I had nearly completed the court-ordered sentence placed upon me (thereby fulfilling my ‘debt’ to society) and had even earned an Associates of Science degree in computers while in prison, that I would find work in IT or related field fairly quickly. 
 
After my release, this search continued; by the time I’d all but given up I had applied for over 800 different positions in varying companies (including both the ones applied for while seeking work in prison and after).  Finally, in desperation for income, when I reached the age of 62 I  filed for my Social Security even though with my time in prison I would only receive just over $600.00 per month.  I had begun volunteering with different agencies in the Triangle (where we lived at the time) but continued to seek employment to no avail.

We relocated to the Wilmington area in hopes that an agency here would hire me (one of their supervisors had expressed an interest in me when I met her for a position assisting those coming out of prison in finding work).  Once we were in Wilmington, I followed their website daily waiting for the position to be posted.  When it did appear, I submitted my application with resume and appropriate documents and waited while checking the site at least twice a day.  After a month the position was no longer listed, having been filled without even a phone call from them.  It seemed the combination of my age and my felony would prove insurmountable barriers to meaningful employment, but was thankful to find other avenues in which to volunteer in the community.  Such activity took much of the sting of rejection at not finding work, giving me a sense of fulfillment and purpose; at least until Monday.

I’ve been reminded that many feel that having a felony is an embarrassment to their organization and would distance themselves from involvement with me (at least where it comes to being in the public eye).  Thankfully I’ve also been shown how others continue to value my efforts on their organization’s part and welcome my continued volunteering with them.  What is most important is knowing that nothing of what has happened can cause my King to reject me.  His grace is beyond my understanding, but the one thing that is immutable in my life.  That rock is a foundation that I can build upon and will continue to do so for whatever remains of my life.  Whether as a volunteer or in some paid position, my desire to serve the community remains unchanged.