Easter's been unusually quiet too. No Easter eggs in church this year, attendance has been the lowest since I can remember. Michelle and the band led a great worship though, and Vicar probably preached one of his most fiery sermons to date. I always thought that he was one to straddle expertly between the prosperity gospel and the brimstone-hellfire "hard news", but this occasion he made his allegiance pretty clear to the latter.
But I think the answer to why the season this year has been so meaningless to me lies deep within me. It's those type of days when suddenly Jesus' death on the cross becomes meaningless. Everyone's talking about it, and we're told to preach it with great excitement, but to be honest there is very little of that excitement inside. Ever since the stress of the Honors Thesis came crashing down, when the job applications all returned with a nil reply, when I'm finally retired from the youth leadership. A lot of things.
But in the middle of my despondency, I did manage (credit to God's grace) to cry out for help. He didn't answer immediately. But the important thing was, He did. And through an avenue I'm pretty familiar with: a hymn.
And life is worth the living, just because He lives.
It was my turn to do the powerpoint for the worship, and most of us usually don't become too absorbed in our personal worship because of the responsibility of making sure the right lyrics appear at the right time. But this part of the chorus to a beautiful hymn awoke me, and a hand tugged at the strings of my heart.
Is life really worth the living for me just because He lives?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of poverty?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of obscurity?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of loneliness?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of sorrow?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of imprisonment?
Would life be worth living if I had to live one of pain?
Since a long time, I realized that the zeal in my heart had burnt out. Amongst all the competition, chaos, noise, I've lost sight of the reason for living.
My heart had grown cold slowly. It began with a broken heart, then a complaining spirit; combined with a lack of opportunities over time, I had given up on love. I had rejected the wild romantic spirit that distinguished my character for so long, and let go of the faith in God's promises to hang on instead to rationality and disillusionment. I had begun to swallow the lies that no one could love me, that I had to make myself more lovable everyday, more approved by people I don't even know.
And as time went on, tiredness seeped in. Expectations were not met. Acts of love were not returned, and worse still, despised and spat upon. Honesty was seen as stupidity and gullibility, even by those whom you thought would be in a position to understand better. Living and breathing became meaningless, almost as if it was hell.
Thus the question that I must ask myself: Is life worth the living, just because He lives?
Sorrow does not come when one realizes his own fear for his future; sorrow comes instead, when one realizes that he has no future. -Valentino Casanova
You have said, "It is futile to serve God. What did we gain by carrying out his requirements and going about like mourners before the LORD Almighty? But now we call the arrogant blessed. Certainly the evildoers prosper, and even those who challenge God escape."-God (Malachi 3:14-15)
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