Daily Living in Light of Easter
Part I | Introduction & Are we “good” without God?
Introduction
Over a decade ago, I recall an Easter Sunday when a 7.2 magnitude earthquake hit Southern California near the border to Baja California. The quake lasted about a minute and a half, causing structural damage on both sides of the border, impacting Calexico, El Centro, and parts of San Diego County. What’s remarkable about such seismic activity is that when considering the biblical biographies (known as the Gospels), a similar event occurred on that first Easter Sunday. Aside from the geological similarities, the analogous nature of the earth-shaking historical event of the Resurrection has continued to produce shockwaves that have shaken the very fabric of societies and cultures throughout the generations.
Without a doubt, the two most significant holidays in the Christian calendar that display intentional annual patterns and seasonal rhythms in the life of a believer are Christmas and Easter. For those who are part of more liturgical circles, we can add the season of Advent and Lent into the mix. Some circles celebrate biblical feasts, All Saints Day, Ascension Day, and/or observe the sabbath each Saturday.
Here we are, a couple of days after Easter Sunday. Many are topically reflecting on the Easter message, which was scrupulously crafted to provoke us to think, feel, and continue about our lives in worship. One could consider that each day is a chance for the proverbial rubber to meet the road. Will this past weekend be just another bi-annual observance to tick the box and get on with life as usual? Or did something seismic occur deep within our soul that snaps us out of spiritual amnesia and the mundane elements of our day-to-day?
The “Good” in Good Friday
The good life. A life of laughter and celebration, free of discomfort or pain—commonly characterized by a win and loss column. In this view, if you have more “Ws” than “Ls” in life you’re doing quite well. Now, if suspicion arises at this notion, you’re not alone. If you aren’t just looking at life through Western rose-tinted glasses, you may be able to observe that our marketplaces, news outlets, and social media feeds are inundated with curated imagery and controlled discourse emphasizing this ideal, that narrative, or some current talking point. My wife and I look at these dimensions of the world and witness the unfortunate exposition of extreme self-absorption that will inevitably lead to the most apathetic and narcissistic generation this world has ever seen. To be fair, western individualism, in and of itself, over and against non-western collectivism, is not the problem. The problem lay beneath mere cultural practices or perspectives.
Yet in other instances or in our most honest moments, it’s easy to view life as ordinary or dull or, worse yet, bleak and full of disillusionment. I can empathize with those with a more cynical or pessimistic bent toward life, who see that injecting some sophomoric optimism into everything or making every effort to search for the silver lining can be helpful at times. Ultimately, it’s an unsustainable pursuit, especially when the weight of it presses squarely on you—and you alone. Looking away from these raw observations and common conclusions—in escapism—may help in the short term, but you will soon find that you’ve willfully turned a blind eye to the starkness that this world has always been marked by. The reality of pain, the vainglory of power, the emptiness of greed, and the multitude of the like cast a long and looming shadow on our world.
Adding thoughts like these to the felt experiences of humanity brings into question moral and ethical grounds, never mind the epistemological foundations that give them any mobility or functionality in this world. Truth has grown increasingly obfuscated and, therefore, harder to see. Goodness is taken for granted and has become a byword for those aiming at consensus and signaling virtue while insulating themselves from a belief in God. The problem is not whether you possess the necessary positive or negative outlook on life or are inclined toward either polarity even while you white-knuckle your way to split the difference. The problem of our estimations of good and our definitions of goodness is human indifference.
Poetry | “Good without God?”
Good.
Good, as opposed to evil
Good, where sanctioned by positivity
Good, so long as I am defining the term
Good, when compared to others
Good, relative to the lowest quality
I’m a good person.
A good person, relative to what I can remember
A good person, related to what I choose to acknowledge
A good person, according to my limitations and licenses
A good person, by today’s standards and litmus tests
A good person, in terms of social conventions and contracts
A good person, insofar as directed by an everchanging consensus
God.
God is foundational and immutable
God is the transcendent anchor point
God is beyond humanity’s highest ideal
God is above maximum standards and quality
God is the objective reality of goodness
God is the moral arbiter
God is good in and of Himself
How can one be good without God?
Needless to say, I don’t mean that a person who does not believe in God can’t be good. Many philosophers and Christian apologists ask the question to point to the meta-ethical question of moral values and the undeniable fact that without God, good or goodness are relative terms steeped in subjectivity with no justifiable grounding in objective reality. The best secular humanists can do is move the goalpost or lower the bar to something else, like inter-subjectivism or some developmental theory where our lives are the empirical evidence we test this theory against. If you can gaze upon a world where bad things do happen to good people, the problem is not just out there or only in some exceptional circumstance. The problem is here. I am the problem. You are the problem. We are the problem. Our good is not good enough.
How can we gaze upon a man suffering and dying on a Roman cross 2,000 years ago and call it good? What’s so special about this event?
Dr. Jordan Peterson was recently invited to the Sapience Institute in the UK to discuss the distinctions between Christianity and Islam. When the crucifixion of Christ came up in conversation, he gave his psychological perspective on the Passion Story and its relation to tragedy. Suppose you define tragedy as something terrible happening to someone who doesn’t deserve it. In that case, this story is an archetypal tragedy, or, to put it another way, the sum total of all possible tragedies when construed by the revelatory imagination.
Consider these tragedies:
A person betrayed by someone they love and trust
A person abandoned by all those they hold near and dear
A person dying young before the eyes of their mother
An ethnic minority falling victim to some form of tyranny
An innocent person receiving the death penalty for a crime they did not commit
In case you missed it, in each instance, the person I am describing is Christ. In order to reconcile the sum total of all possible tragedies, God chose to display an all-surpassing insurmountable love through the person and work of Christ. Gazing upon The Cross invites a profoundly transformative Truth into the heart, mind, and soul. It’s from that abundant resource that we can now draw out the good which proceeds directly from the Source of goodness—and deal decisively with suffering and tragedy in this life. This is why Christians call the apex tragedy that is the Passion Story—in particular, Christ's brutal scourging and grotesque death on The Cross—Good Friday.
We hope and pray that this 3-part series will help you to live in light of Easter each day. In Part II, we will look at four lessons from The Cross and how each distinctive should impact our day-to-day lives. In Part III we will explore grief and some key evidences for the Resurrection of Christ that will equip you to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” (1 Peter 3:15)