Easter reminds us that faith can conquer plagues and despair

This week we mark the highest Christian holy day.

Easter Sunday celebrates life itself—the resurrection of Jesus from the grave, through which we’re promised that death can never defeat God’s love.

But what a time to find ourselves declaring resurrection and victory, here in the midst of a deadly pandemic.

Except for those frontline medical and service heroes to whom we owe a great and ongoing debt of gratitude, most of us are hunkered down at home, isolated from friends, family, jobs and religious services. We’re left with our thoughts.

None of us has ever spent an Easter like this.

Two weeks ago, I marked my 64th birthday, which became mainly another reminder of how tenuous my survival has become. I’m in nearly every known high-risk category for COVID-19 complications. I feel as if I’m wearing a huge bullseye on my chest.

Although I try to keep a positive outlook, I also battle unsettling visions of departing sooner than I’d planned, hooked to a ventilator, with no one even to hold my hand.

The perils we face are real and acute. None of us knows how this will play out.

My heart aches for those already suffering and dying, and those who will suffer and die tomorrow. Each COVID-19 victim is an individual human being and a child of God whose life is as valuable as my own.

And yet. And yet I also find myself strangely buoyed most days, oddly happy.

So far—I emphasize the so far—I’m discovering a fresh purpose and an unexpected freedom. I’m learning to experience the good news of Jesus on an entirely different level.

Until recently, we in the modern West have existed in a protective bubble, untroubled by famines, pestilences, persecutions.

Not so for our Christian ancestors through history, or many of today’s Christians elsewhere in the world.

Previous generations of Christians, for instance—and non-Christians—faced death daily. They were battered by unsanitary conditions, primitive medical care, plague, cholera, smallpox, typhoons, starvation and the sword.

I don’t idealize them. They were human. They, like us, doubted and sometimes trembled. Jesus himself, agonizing about his coming crucifixion, sweated drops of blood.

Still, the earliest Christians, particularly, were renowned even among their critics for their inexplicable joy, generosity and love. They managed to find purpose despite, or maybe because of, the specter of death constantly hovering over them.

I think they knew things we’ve forgotten.

For instance, they knew that even in the safest of times, security was an illusion.

We moderns have had, until now, the privilege of being able to pretend protection and health were our birthrights. Nothing too serious could befall us.

Now we’re learning a stark truth: Destruction can find anyone, any day, anywhere.

Earlier Christians understood they weren’t in control of their lives.

They didn’t have all—or perhaps any—of the answers to life’s vexing philosophical questions, such as, “Why does evil exist?” Or, “Why would a powerful, loving God not instantly stop an epidemic?”

They didn’t pretend to know. As scholar N. T. Wright has said, the earliest Christians seemed not even to care about such matters. Given their own hard experiences, they took tribulation, suffering and death as the natural state of a fallen, brutish world.

“In this world you will have tribulation,” Jesus had warned.

They’d seen firsthand he was right.

I’m realizing how shallow my previous sense of well-being was. The dangers before me now are huge and potentially overwhelming.

Yet this revelation hasn’t so far led me toward depression, but toward a kind of freedom.

If I’m not in control, then why waste energy worrying? I should do my best to protect my health and that of others, of course. But no matter how conscientious I am, I still may be laid low, because that’s how this disease works. That’s how life works.

So, while I’m not freed from the perils of COVID-19, I am freed to not fret about it. Matters are out of my hands. I can only lean into God’s mercy and surrender to his will.

I also suspect this vulnerability is leading me toward a depth of compassion I’ve never felt before. Young, old, rich, poor, male, female, Christian, agnostic—we’re all naked before an unpredictable and malevolent evil. We must take care of each other.

Finally, I’m trying to abide in a hope beyond the reach of this present world. Those early Christians truly believed death wasn’t the end, but an eternal beginning. If there’s death, they thought, then resurrection inevitably follows. Jesus himself had proved it.

So death didn’t get the last laugh anymore. Eternal life did. Faith did. Love did.

Actually Easter is an auspicious time to find ourselves facing a pandemic, if we must face one. Easter reminds us our enemy has already lost the battle.

Contributing columnist Paul Prather is pastor of Bethesda Church in Mt. Sterling. He can be reached at pratpd@yahoo.com.

This story was originally published April 9, 2020 at 10:18 AM with the headline "Easter reminds us that faith can conquer plagues and despair."