Being an Easter Girl

            I’m not sure why I’ve never read anything by Anne Lamott before. I remember having to read Traveling Mercies when I was in seminary, but I don’t remember really connecting to it (probably had something to do with all the other reading I had to do in seminary for theology and biblical studies). While sorting through the books in my office last week, I came across Anne Lamott’s book Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith (River Head Books 2005). Inside the front cover was the name of my dear friend and mentor, Rev. Kristie who passed away in 2014. There was a note on the inside cover that the book was specifically recommended to her by another dear friend and mentor of ours. So, I read the book.

            Actually, I didn't just read it. I devoured it.

            And I wondered, “Why haven’t I read her before?”

            Plan B is Ann Lamott’s response to the world in the few years following September 11, 2001. It’s her fight to try and find common ground with the administration of the day and working through her fear and anxiety about the current state of the world. More than once while reading the book, I thought about how easy it would be to replace the years and names with today’s political climate and administration. I share the same fears and anxieties, as I know many people do.

            Then Ann Lamott said something that stuck with me. It stuck with me so hard that I snapped a picture of the page and used the phone app to highlight the text. She wrote, “Darkness is our context and Easter’s context: without it, you couldn’t see the light. Hope is not about proving anything. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us.” She quoted from a colleague of hers who said once that we tend to live as Good Friday people rather than as Easter people and I wonder if that’s true. I wonder if we live in the state of fear and wondering, of grief and anxiety more than we live in the hope of the resurrection.

            Which makes me wonder what living in the hope of the resurrection means.

            I’m not sure why it’s so hard to trust that God’s love has the whole world still in his hands. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to trust that even if the world does blow itself up, God will still be with us and still shepherd us home. I suppose that ought to be comforting, except for the part where we worry that the world will blow itself up.

            I do know that the worrying is a part of being human. I do know that doubt is not an enemy of faith. And I do know that I am thankful for every ray of sunshine that God puts in my face. I’m thankful for each day that God reminds me not to read the news right before bed.

             For me, living as an Easter girl means practicing kindness because I know it matters. It means knowing that God’s got this, even if the world seems unbelievably insane (seriously, some days I’m not even sure why I still have social media and news apps on my phone). Living in the hope of the resurrection, as an Easter girl instead of a Good Friday girl, means choosing to love before I choose to look away: to really see people. It means living with the hope of Romans 8:28, trusting that God works all things for good. God's love really is bigger than any grim, bleak stuff anyone can throw at us.

            God’s love is bigger than anything.

            A friend of mine painted a canvas for me as a house-warming gift. It's a quote from First Peter 5:7. She didn't realize it's my favorite verse - my go-to verse when I need God and don't know what words to use in a prayer. The fact that she put it on the canvas without knowing what that verse means to me is proof that the Holy Spirit moves in all kinds of wonderful ways. The verse is this: "Cast all your anxiety on Him because he cares for you." May this verse bring you comfort the way it brings me comfort.