New life & new light

By Stephen Reeves

Last weekend we celebrated resurrection, the defeat of death, light breaking into the darkness and hope from despair. Easter was a long time coming. Scripture teaches that Jesus rose on the third day, but it feels as though we’ve endured darkness much longer. 

Rebekah Krevens

The numerous profound crises that we’ve all suffered made this Easter dawn feel particularly bright. Many churches met in-person for the first time in over a year. Some in the sanctuary while socially distanced and wearing masks, others outside in parking lots, on church lawns, or ball fields. With millions receiving vaccines, the good news of resurrection has taken on a new meaning. It feels like we’re celebrating our own new life.

We’re often asked on Easter to contemplate what Jesus’ resurrection means to us. This year, I wonder, what will we do with our own new life? What have we learned? Has new light been shed on our old ways, or is a return to that previous normal the goal? Will we seize this moment to embrace a truly new life?

Whether it is the depths of a tomb or even just a dark movie theater, coming out into the light is jarring, painful even. When new light rushes in, it takes a moment to recalibrate, adjust and refocus before we can move forward. 

I think for many, this year has caused scales to fall from our eyes and our first sensation has been pain. Admitting that we “once were blind, but now see” is almost elemental to our faith. Whether it is a healing miracle of Jesus, the first chapter of John, or Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus, again and again the story of the faithful includes new light and new sight. Easter is the perfect opportunity to refocus.

Have you found new sight this year? Were you given new eyes to see? Did you see the reality of systemic racial injustice for the first time? Did you take a longer look at migrants on the border wishing for a new life and a chance at the freedom and security you’ve taken for granted? Did you see the instability of our democracy and the power of conspiracy theories, manufactured outrage and partisan self-interest? Did you see the fragility of life and health? Did mandatory shutdowns shed new light on how we’re all connected? Did you see your own church fractured in ways you never thought possible? If your eyes are opened and your heart moved, pay attention, even if it is painful.

Last week, Gallup released new polling that showed in 2020 membership in houses of worship fell below 50% for the first time since they began polling in the late 1930s. In the course of one lifetime congregational membership dropped from over 70 percent to 47 percent. The numerical decline of the church in America is a reality that cannot be denied. It is a macro trend also felt in nearly every local congregation. 

The response to this news was predictable. Some questioned the polling methods or what “church membership” even means anymore. In our hyper-partisan culture folks immediately began assigning blame and predicting doom for liberal Democratic leaning churches or right-wing conservative Republican leaning churches. I suspect all kinds of churches are declining and Christians fighting about whose fault it is only hastens the decline. Blame, finger pointing, culture war battles and political infighting aren’t exactly an attractive invitation for most folks. 

The reasons for the decline are surely many. I don’t take these results as confirmation that “the church” is losing a culture war, but that far too many Christians are known primarily as eager combatants in the wrong war altogether. I want my church and Fellowship Southwest to be known for fighting injustice, suffering, poverty, greed and racism.  

While no one Christian, pastor or church can be responsible for reversing such a decline, we can each take responsibility to offer a very different Christian witness than what is so often portrayed in the larger culture. I think it wise to spend less time pointing out the speck in our neighbor’s eye while we have a plank in our own.

I’m grateful that a vaccine has brought us to the edge of new life, but this painful year has been instructive. Let’s not lose the lessons. This Easter, I’m praying for and working towards a new, better normal. Celebrate the resurrection by committing to a new living of your faith. I want to to be a witness for compassion and justice, humility, thoughtfulness and respect for all. Join me in putting our heads down, blocking out the noise and getting to work.