Despite the biblical stamp of “world without end,” it’s very hard to imagine that truth when you examine the events that unfolded weeks ago, as we contemplate the scary prospect of re-assimilating into society as scarred survivors who barely survived the unsurvivable.
But let’s be honest, if Jesus Christ who gave his life by submitting to the goriness of being nailed to the cross, randomly appeared on a fluffy white cloud to triumphantly hail his second coming, we would absolutely greet him with resounding applause and relief.
Why on earth wouldn’t we readily accept the glowing imagery of Christ-in-the-flesh particularly during a this season of unfathomable upheaval?
We are embodying the verses that light up The Book of Revelation, advanced by over-zealous zealots with dusty halos, and the gluttonous will to survive through the criminality of in-person church attendance or streaming currency.
As this global epidemic continues to send daily reminders of how life can become death in an instant, the solemn reverence of the ultimate sacrifice for mankind, that plays out in centers of chaos and peace, where masked superheroes jump into action without capes or kryptonite, rightfully deposits pending queries.
We have to contend with the weirdness of Easter and why it’s not the holiday of all holidays that gives Xmas a run for all that money.
Why isn’t Easter more like Christmas, with the endless gift lists and the premature celebratory vibes that begin as soon as Halloween howls into existence?
I’ve always pondered this shit, and when the conversation is lit, it’s clear that the argument features the lone soldier who is fighting for the legitimacy of Jesus Christ and that heroic mission.
It was dutifully accomplished and documented for the shunning of misled Christians who are sold on the yearly homage to the biggest and longest birthday party.
Yes, we can’t downplay the relevance of Christ’s much-heralded arrival. The miraculous birth and subsequent influence as the ordained Son of God, who chose to die for our sins, so that we would forever be indebted to unattainable perfection.
But when it comes right down to it, we are undoubtedly drawn to the lesser of the two feats courtesy of the Kingdom of God.
Christmastime is conveniently situated at the end of the year when our heart strings are primed for theatrics with the nostalgia for what was and the God-driven goals for what’s to come.
And aside from the emotional revolution, we are also heavily tasked with immense responsibility to outdo ourselves each time the blessed birthday of God’s only begotten Son makes another formidable appearance.
It’s reasonable to conclude that God doesn’t really have much of a say in the glitzy arrangements overseen by those who succumb to the wiles of the flesh. We weakly adhere to temptations that overshadow the basic requirements of Christianity in the realm of humbly rejecting devilish diversions, that mandate the emptying of funds for the entrapment of superficialities.
Christmas is so much more fun because of the month’s long festival that features the elaborate antics of the giddy flock, who only recognize Jesus Christ when he’s embedded in fancy wrapping paper. We love how he’s drizzled in the toppings and overnight marinate, and we really worship how well he manifests in varieties of baked confections.
Birthdays are great and can’t be overrated in the world we’ve outfitted without the curation of God, who would much rather we bow down to the superpowers that gave Christ the ammunition to rise from the dead.
I mean it’s beyond ironic that despite how fixated we are with death and dying and what lies ahead for those who transition, we are able to casually dismiss the epic journey of the chosen one, whose arrival and final departure are equally worthy of what transpires during the entire month of December.
It’s interesting how Easter sort of breezes in and out with light-hearted delicacies that include fattened bunnies of every persuasion, and brown-sugared ham that may or may not be staples in low key households.
The whispery reception to the immaculate ascension of Jesus Christ doesn’t come close to the national hysteria of Christmas, with the crippling seduction of shameless retailers. Willing participants are coerced into the traditional squandering of modest assets for the pleasure of surpassing too high expectations.
How does the simplicity of Jesus suddenly become trivialized into the nauseating holiday season that thrives off of damning attributes of excessiveness, and blinding materialism, instead of the spellbinding “good will towards men” that God the Father instructs.
Perhaps the morbidity of our demise that’s contingent on the faith of a heavenly admittance, if we succeed in the life-long pursuit of perfection during our earthly dwelling, is the stumbling block that prevents the sparkly allowance for a very merry Easter and wishes for a happy and prosperous rest of the year.
Christ was able to defeat the finality of death, and those achievements far surpass his supernatural conception, although pregnancy without the act of sex is pretty gangster.
All this to say that God really doesn’t factor into the human experience when you consider how people with devious motives end up hijacking narratives, in an effort to weaponize what doesn’t belong to them in the first place.
It’s easier to stay locked indoors during a holiday that’s much ado about nothing, but now that our attention has been swayed, it might be a good idea to assess whether or not the resurrection of Jesus Christ really means anything.
And if it truly does, then why don’t we go hard for Easter like we do for Christmas?