Denying the Resurection
I read this quote from Peter Rollins which inspired a mini-blog post on denying the resurrection.
“Without equivocation or hesitation I fully and completely admit that I deny the resurrection of Christ. This is something that anyone who knows me could tell you, and I am not afraid to say it publicly, no matter what some people may think…
I deny the resurrection of Christ every time I do not serve at the feet of the oppressed, each day that I turn my back on the poor; I deny the resurrection of Christ when I close my ears to the cries of the downtrodden and lend my support to an unjust and corrupt system.
However there are moments when I affirm that resurrection, few and far between as they are. I affirm it when I stand up for those who are forced to live on their knees, when I speak for those who have had their tongues torn out, when I cry for those who have no more tears left to shed.”
I deny the resurrection too. I wear out my body and stress my mind to sleepless exhaustion. Twilight moments spent manipulating a better time for me here. I’m obsessed with myself and it’s gotten out of control recently. Praying this morning about that obsession; to fill MY life, make MY career, find MY love, manifest MY moments, and perhaps, most troublesome, mine MY meaning.
None of it’s mine to mine though. The kisses, heartache, funerals, fiestas, and failures are all Holy gifts. Holy gifts meant to inch me further from me and closer to the instances I let myself die and release my obsession with contextualizing the last 28 years (29 on TUES) into something that, at worst I understand, but at best others/myself will think of as great, cool, or enviable. Those moments where I actually let me die can create real, Holy love — it’s a natural instinct to the bliss felt when I truly, finally affirm the resurrection and and take part in that new life.
Yeah. Do that, Ben. That all sounds great, but it takes faith. Faith is hard, because I’d first have to believe God is better than me. I don’t most of the time, but I want to. So, my prayer is that through this Holy gift— the kisses and heartache, funerals and fiestas… I’ll start to believe that.