I read an article the other day about Christian persecution in the Middle East. The stories presented were rather horrific. I’m not going to describe the stomach-wrenching horror I read, just know that if I didn’t know better, and the language was slightly less-modern, I would have guessed that what was being described was in pre-Constantine Rome, when Christians were fed to lions or crucified, or used as human lanterns in gardens. Now, I don’t know how trustworthy the site was, and it could be that everything was greatly exaggerated. Or it could be absolutely, God’s-honest truth. Human cruelty never fails to surprise me; I would rather believe that people are really good at heart, or that only the incredibly sick and twisted do awful things. But that’s not really true. We’re all capable of atrocities; we just don’t want to recognize that fact (and we don’t have to face it in our comfy Western world, because it’s easy to keep the awfulness in our souls hidden here ). But whether nor not this particular article was telling the whole, unbiased, untainted truth about the persecution of Christians is not really the point.
The point is not even that it could be. But the point is somewhere along the lines of if it IS true, and if Christians in places throughout the world are being brutalized (which we know they are), than where does that leave me? I have a pretty comfy, not-at-all-physically-persecuted life. In fact, I would call my life cushy.
So what if? What if our places were reversed, and suddenly I lived in a place that mocked and despised my faith? What if someone held a gun to my head and asked me to renounce my faith in Jesus, or die, would I do it? I like to think that I would stick to my faith, that I would have that kind of courage. And, honestly, I’d take a gun to my head any day over most of the brutality I read about. A bullet to the head is usually pretty short and quick. But some of what I read left Christians suffering for a long, long time. So, what about then? Would I be tortured for my faith? I hope so. I hope I wouldn’t rationalize myself out of it. But I don’t know. I’m not sure I ever will know, until faced with it. It is a good reason to know why I believe what I believe…and to realize that in a moment like that, rational, scientific arguments aren’t going to do anything to convince me. It’ll be my life experiences and the stories I’ve heard that might help me look my persecutor in the eyes and say, “I can’t. My God has done too much for me. I believe in Him, you can’t change that. Do what you want with this body.”
And so, the point – I think really, the biggest question for me, right now, in my cushy life, is when was the last time I prayed for my Christian brothers and sisters who are being tortured for their faith? Or for the girls who were recently kidnapped? Or for any of the sex trafficking victims? When was the last time I prayed for something that wasn’t related to myself, my friends, or even someone I knew? When was the last time I took the time to even allow the knowledge of the suffering of others to soak into my understanding a little bit? When was the last time I let that knowledge impact my self-focused, first-world-problemed life? To my shame, I can’t remember.
I have been so wrapped up in my cushy-comfy life, that I forget about the world of pain and discomfort and want out there. And I forget to pray for my brothers and sisters whose trials are far worse than anything I can imagine. I forgot to pray for my fellow humans who need Jesus, who survive on less than a bowl of rice a day, or who don’t have water to drink.
I am so comfortable I forget. And really, it’s not really a subject I like to think about, you know? It’s uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. But it is something I should be doing. It is a place of discomfort and pain that I NEED to enter into. It is the very least I can do for my brothers and sisters, for my fellow humans. I might never be given the privilege to share in their suffering, but I can pray for them in theirs.
I think this is important, and I think we do not do it enough. We read books whose message we agree with. We are friends with those who think as we do. How often do we actually engaged in conversation someone, who while having the same fundamental beliefs as us, disagrees with our view of God. How much of God are we missing out on because we think we understand Him completely and correctly, that we have no room for new ideas, or different sides of Him that we have never engaged?
I feel pretty confident in stating that spring is finally here. Granted, I live in Colorado, so we might be in for another snow fall – or not. If we do get more snow, it won’t stick around long.

As I’ve gotten older a few of those traditions have fallen to the wayside – like the hats and white gloves and orchid corsages. (I should’ve kept the hat one, but I don’t have time to find the perfect Easter hat these days).
As for Chocolat, I love the reminder of grace and mercy that the movie subtly speaks of. For that is what this holiday is all about, is it not? Through Christ’s sacrifice, God extends us grace and mercy.
And that’s where we stop. We forget to apply Easter to our lives. Because of Easter we are covered by Jesus’ blood. Because of Easter, our sins no longer interfere with our relationship with God. Because of Easter, God’s grace and mercy extend over, around, through, and under us. We are accepted. He loves us (not that He didn’t before). Because of Easter, you don’t have to be perfect, or even mostly good. Jesus’ blood covers all the gunk in your life, so you don’t have to sit there, covered in it, and focus on it. You no longer have any need to be reminded of the gunk and sin, you can get up and walk away from it. God will clean that up; God will clean YOU up. Sure, He’ll ask for your help, but He’ll do it. You don’t (you CAN’T) do it on your own. And THAT is what Easter is about: Jesus taking on the responsibility of cleaning up your mess. (Now…if only He would clean up my chocolate-and-coconut-covered kitchen….)