Broiled Fish
I find solace in the week that follows Easter. Perhaps, my body has been trained to exhale after years of pastoring and running to the point of exhaustion the week prior. (Easter is no joke in the church world -ya’ll.) Whatever the cause, this week brings a dissonance of knowing and unknowing resurrection that I no longer dismiss. It comes with more questions that answers -- like most weeks do.
One early 4:30am morning my tired eyes caught a sign across the dark un-lit coffee shop. I flipped on a light to see it better. Up close, there were plenty of words, but one phrase in particular drew me in. Four years later the sign hangs on my stairwell and I find myself reading that same line everyday.
“What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight. Build anyway.”
The entirety of the quote is beautiful no doubt, but those two lines haunt my days. What is worth building that will only later be destroyed? Perhaps, it’s my 8’ness wanting to leave a lasting legacy or large impact on this world --or just my stubborn nature. No matter, I’d rather not build something that I know will eventually come crashing down on top of me. Dumb. No thanks. And yet….
Luke 24: 38-42 “Why are you frightened?” he asked. “Why are your hearts filled with doubt? Look at my hands. Look at my feet. You can see that it’s really me. Touch me and make sure that I am not a ghost, because ghosts don’t have bodies, as you see that I do.” As he spoke, he showed them his hands and his feet. Still they stood there in disbelief, filled with joy and wonder. Then he asked them, “Do you have anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he ate it as they watched.
Everything Jesus had invested his life into the past three years...his ministry...crumbled. He had the greatest comeback of all time and his closest friends and team still couldn’t really believe it to be him. But, first Jesus doesn’t defend or correct. He, first, asks for something to eat.
This unnerves me on this snowy April 17th, 2020 -Friday. That maybe, just maybe, if Jesus can watch everything he built fall apart that I can too. That the ministries we lead, businesses we’ve built, lives we live are going to be just fine. Not because the damage won’t occur. But, somehow, amidst the rubble we can still sit down and eat a meal. That resurrection doesn’t remove life’s brokenness or doubt, we just get to experience joy and wonder through it. All I’m saying is that if Jesus did not feel the need to quickly defend himself or muster an emergency five-year growth track plan after the crashing of the world...maybe I don’t either. Maybe you don’t either.
When this is over, instead, I’ll invite you over from some broiled fish. Because, apparently, experiencing new life makes us hungry.