An Easter Message

A week or two ago I forwarded to my three daughters an article on relationships I had read on AOL. My oldest daughter emailed me back. She wrote Seriously Mom? You want me to take advice from the Huffington Post?

You know that you are in the state of Georgia when you come down to breakfast on a Sunday morning and instead of The Today Show blaring from the big flatscreen TV in the breakfast lounge you see one of the religious stations on instead. You share your grits and eggs with a TV evangelist.

And ordinarily this might make me uncomfortable—I have concerns about anything too extreme—whether it is politics or religion. And I am skeptical about the sincerity of sharply tailored men speaking of Jeee-sus. But as it was Palm Sunday and was feeling a twinge of guilt over my absence at mass I was more open to listening—I figured a little Jeee-sus wouldn’t hurt me—plus I was by myself with no one to talk to.

And to my surprise I was instantly engaged. The minister was speaking of how Jesus’ last words on the cross were It is finished. And upon hearing those words—the high priests, and the Romans, and the people who either demanded his crucifixion or wept---believed it to be so. It was finished—over. And even the disciples, who were told over and over again by their master that he would die and resurrect, also thought it was finished. Jesus was dead. They all witnessed it. It was over. Only nothingness remained.

But it was not over. Jesus rose.

And the preacher wanted the take home message to be that whenever we are in despair, and we think it is finished, it is not. All things resurrect. All despair can be turned around if you believe and take charge. Nothing is ever over or finished—even death.

And I thought wow that is a good spin on life. We are all empowered to transform no matter how grave the circumstances. From despair comes reinvention. And then I noticed that the well-dressed man did not have a Southern accent. His skin was olive-toned. And at the bottom of the screen I read the preacher’s name. It was Dr. Michael Youssef. He wasn’t a Christian at all. He was Muslim. This was a Muslim service.

Hmmm.

And I emailed my daughter after her skeptical response that sometimes quality information comes from unexpected sources. Sometimes dead on correct messages come from dubious messengers. So while the Huffington Post certainly isn’t the most trusted resource, it didn’t mean the truth couldn’t be nailed on occasion. And spiritual enlightenment doesn’t always have to come from a man of your faith. Enlightenment comes whenever you are open to the possibility. One not be a  member of  the choir to understand the message of the preacher.