May the hope of Easter dwell with you always.  HAPPY EASTER!
 
 
 
 
 
We must say “yes” to life or else we die.  So what happens to people who have no hope? As the play-write mused, “Do they just dry up like raisins in the sun?” 
 
What will happen to the Kenyan grandmother I know, whose four sons were killed as they tried to defend their homestead during the tribal clashes?
 
What will happen to the four widows and children who watched their homes, their granaries, their life’s work go up in smoke?
 
What will happen to the young girl who ran through the slums, splashing through puddles of blood, darting here and there, avoiding gangs of young men wielding machetes?
 
As Kenyans travel the Road to Emmaus this Easter season, will their eyes be blind to the presence of the risen Christ?   Or will their eyes be opened, and their lives empowered by God, so they can say “yes” to life?
 
I sat in a coffee shop in Nairobi (our weekly treat on the day we travel to town to buy groceries) when I noticed two prominent politicians seated in a nearby booth.  I could hardly contain my anger as I glared at them – so much death, violence, and loss, because they stoked the fires of tribal hatred.  Rage swelled up as a lump in my throat, and I had to flee the coffee shop to hide my tears.
I ambled through the aisles of the nearby grocery store, trying to pull myself together, when I noticed Hot Cross buns – the Easter bread we had often enjoyed on Easter morning when we were in the USA.  Hot Cross buns with the empty cross prominently displayed:  a symbol that death has lost its sting – that God has overcome all that can hurt and destroy us.
 
On seeing those Hot Cross buns, I became aware, to my amazement, that I had been walking on my own Road to Emmaus.  I had been slow to recognize the presence of the risen Christ walking and talking with me, as we strolled that dusty path together.  Oh, how my heart burned within me.  I was no longer blind nor my spirit dumb.  Once again my soul was renewed, and I regained the hope and courage to carry on – to share the pain and offer solace to our Kenyan neighbors.  And all because I noticed those Hot Cross buns!
 
Hot Cross buns will never again be the same for me.  That sweet, savory memory of Easter Hope had carried me back to “yes”.   It was then I confirmed that the hope of Kenyans will rise up from the ashes.  Once again, God will wipe away the tears from their eyes and set their feet to dancing.
 
Our hope is in God who made heaven and earth. The risen Christ is the “yes” to life. When we share God’s love with others there will be no “dried raisins in the sun”.
 
 
Happy Easter,
 
Lyle and Terry Dykstra

 


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