6 minute read
Easter hope
Moderator, Dr David Bruce, offers a hope-filled Easter reflection.
Iwould like to tell you part of the story of my father’s family. It’s a familiar Ulster Presbyterian tale, which begins in the townland of Mullaghboy, outside Bellaghy. The small farm of 18 acres had been home to the Bruce family for as long as records can show. James Bruce was born and grew up there, and farmed the land as a tenant. His son William continued the family tradition, taking over the small-holding in the 1870s.
William took advantage of the Land Acts of the 1880s to buy out his tenancy, and the farm prospered under his ownership as the land was improved. They had three children. One son left Ireland in 1904 to start a new life in America. Their daughter, Minnie, got married and moved away. So it was Howard, my grandfather, who inherited the farm.
In those years he would read in the newspaper of the sinking of the Titanic, the devastation of the ‘war to end all wars’, the Easter Rising in 1916 and the partition of Ireland in 1921, followed by a brutal civil conflict. These were turbulent times to marry and start a family, but Howard and my grandmother Isobel were determined people, who had learned how to adapt in a crisis.
For them, there was always hope that the future would be brighter. Come what may, they would find a way forward, no matter how deep the problems they faced. This would lead them to sell the farm, start a small business and push their two young sons, one of whom was my father, to make the most of their opportunities – first in Castledawson, later in Portrush, and finally in Belfast. They had their own challenges to face, living and working through the Great Depression and the Second World War, but they were driven by hope, not crushed by despair.
The Christian faith offers us a profoundly optimistic view of life. The Good Friday cross may seem to be the ultimate moment of defeat as Jesus, our teacher and friend, was executed. But
Easter Sunday – resurrection morning – bursts upon us to say ‘No’ to despair and ‘Yes’ to hope. The New Testament explains the gospel in multiple ways to reinforce this. It is a journey from darkness to light. Our feet are lifted out of the ‘glar’ of a muddy field, and placed solidly on the rock. A seed is sown and dies in the ground, but then produces fruit a hundred-fold. Death is exchanged for life. The Christian way is a journey of hope no matter how gloomy, bruised and unpromising the past may have been.
It is in this basic God-centred positivity about the future, that the Christian church has found itself in the deepest conflict with its recent critics. With the essential optimism of the Christian way, there is a necessary and realistic pessimism about the human story into which God speaks in the person of Jesus. All is not well with us – so we need a redeemer. This does not sit well with a world which increasingly says of the individual, “There is nothing the matter with you. You are neither broken, nor in need of fixing. You are fine as you are.” If we accept this view, our understanding of ourselves may well sound like this: “I am the person I am. Any deficiencies or flaws in my character are the result of outside forces beyond my control – I am not to blame for them.” When asked how they might deal with these issues, they may say, “I will find strength from within. I will develop my own inner resources of mindfulness, resilience and positive thinking”. Such a pathway of selfimprovement for many people is their only source of hope.
But the Christian gospel says the opposite. The New Testament teaches that we have a problem within ourselves. We are broken and sinful. This is the universal human story because we have made the fatal choice to put ourselves before God. We are responsible for this, and we are to blame for it. Furthermore, the solution to this cannot come from within us but only from outside of us, as God lovingly addresses our wrongdoing by sending his Son to die in our place. It is his Good Friday sacrifice for our sin that is the entire source of our hope. Admitting our need, sinfulness and brokenness opens the door to hope – but it will be a bitter pill for most in our deeply self-satisfied culture to swallow.
Some might ask if it is sensible to speak of Christian hope in an era of pandemic disease, perpetual famine, systemic injustice and persistent conflict. Should we not rather concentrate on solving these problems, rather than dwelling on a future which is as yet, undetermined? In this, as with so much else in the Christian life lived in a broken world, we need to strike an important balance.
On the one hand, our hope is in Christ and will have its fullest expression when we are in heaven with him. Paul considers that “our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). On the other hand, this ultimate ending of our story needs to shape the journey we take to reach it. Paul points out that our lived experience today is of a world which “groans” (Romans 8:22), and this trauma is rather like the pains of childbirth. The suffering of the moment gives way to the deep joy of a new life which arrives among us. His vision is that “in hope… the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:21). This liberation from “bondage and decay” must have a local day-to-day expression as well as an ultimate fulfilment in heaven. So, as an expression of their profound hope of heaven, Christians must get busy with making our world a better place now.
I have been so encouraged to read about and hear of many out-workings of this during my time in office. I think of a young woman who has deep-seated mental health issues, and who struggles as a single mother to feed and clothe her child, while managing the normal pressures of life. She is not yet a person of faith, but has come into contact with one of our projects. They have given her hope – not only in the form of some affordable equipment and clothing for her child, but in providing a caring and confidential place for her to meet. She is being nourished there. The volunteer leaders in that project are praying for her. I am constantly impressed by the commitment to care, especially for people whom society might devalue.
In Aaron House in Belfast, Lawnfield in Newcastle and Willowbrook in Coleraine, PCI is able to provide hope for families who have learned that caring for people with long-term disabilities is not something they need to manage alone. This is fabulous kingdom work. Yes, creation groans, and we, in these and a thousand other ways, provide a balm for the pain.
This is not to be self-congratulatory. I am uneasy about our blind-spots, concerned that our testimony is sometimes deficient and sensitive to criticism when we get things wrong.
In response to this, we pray, we go back to Scripture, we examine ourselves and our motives, and we press on out of a desire to serve well and with wisdom. Jesus held together this balance of loving us without reserve, while not leaving us where we are. Redemption, which lies at the heart of the Easter story shows a path of life that is hope-filled for the future, and realistic about the present.
God has made a way for us, and calls us to follow his lead.
Hope at Easter
Howard and Isobel Bruce
