Mike Runey: Easter

On this Easter morning in Baghdad, before you awaken, I want to communicate to you a very real truth for me: the hope that our Savior and Risen Lord brings to even Baghdad after five years of war and thirty years of tyranny of neglect is alive. Hope is real.

Our Sunrise service was uniquely moving. It was very special to share the opening minutes of the day with 200 or so fellow Soldiers, a few sailors and airman, and dedicated civilians who took the normal "catch an extra hour of rest morning" to trudge out to a humble meeting place. These men and women came together for a purpose--they all wanted to be there. People who get up at that time want to find God.

And God was there, but not in the quiet. That heat had already come, even at 0630. Tomorrow is supposed to break the 100 degree mark, about 1 month early. So, no morning chill, and the sun was already up, glaring through a haze, bright enough to force some into sunglasses.
Helicopters thrummed overhead, a burst of machine gun fire echoed at one point in the distance. Convoys were moving--you could hear the air brakes popping and releasing during the service, and at the airport, not too far away, an aircraft roared its engines as it prepped to hurtle down the runway. 0630. Sunday morning. Easter.
In a war zone that grasps for any glimmer of hope in a shaky security situation.

These "normal" sights and sounds in the midst of worship powerfully brought through truth: 2000 years ago a troublemaker rabbi was prosecuted and killed by an occupying force, at the behest of the local leaders, in the midst of a smoldering insurgency. The restive population was split between accommodators, who "got along" with the Romans but hated them, and those bent on fighting and resisting, yet felt the sting of being routinely crushed under the boot of Roman military power.

Governance was the most difficult. Time alone failed to resolve core issues in the 63 years since Pompey's legions conquered Judea.
Through an inefficient cobbling of power between Roman governors and their Herodian "kings," I see a reflection of today's Iraq. Judea was, at best, problematic, a long drain on Rome's energy and attention. Yet it was important to Rome, important as it was the boundary of another power emerging out of Persia. Small ironies.

In the midst of this insurgency and at the edges of empire's tectonic plates, Yeshua ben Yosef, a little "r" rabbi (he didn't have any credentials, to my knowledge, no formal mantles of authority) upturned that world. He flipped it on its head. Peace, love, faith, hope, and a God who can touch lives--individuals and entire communities--in the midst of their very real pain, violence, anger, unresolved conflict.
He died for it. And His life, his resurrection, gave birth to real hope.

Arguably, today, his death would be little noticed. In our military terms, it might be classified as a SIGACT--significant activity-- reported in each night's update to the command, then rolled into statistics as new SIGACTS occur. Yet His life, death, resurrection and the promise of fellowship with Him brought--and continue to bring--persistent hope, despite our individual and collective full-ranging sin, from that which we habitually overlook and justify to the most brutal atrocities. Hope. Hope that is real, true, and in many cases nearly tangible. Our soul can taste it, sip it. It ebbs and flows, but it is always there. I don't know about you, but in these years, this hope sustains me. Such hope enables me, empowers me, lifts me. Not necessarily a soaring hope, but one that gets me to my feet in the morning with confidence He is in the day. It so extends beyond cliché. Life is simply too tough, too ragged for clichés anymore.

No, this type of hope that our Lord brings provides confidence He is alive and present. What he offers I take thirstily. He sustains with the firm reminders that He is with my beloved wife who carries burdens that were meant for two. That He touches my children who a growing and maturing without a father who can hug and love them as he so wishes. He walks with a father and mother who are fighting a new battle with cancer. He touches the hurts, disappointments, and unknowns we face each day, month, year. Unknowns, so many unknowns.
Yet, hope is present. I pray we can live a life with a constant, sufficient supply of true hope, a hope that only our Lord provides.

Start of the week, busy morning. A resurrection quietly occurs, miracle of miracles. Baghdad 2008. Occupied Jerusalem amid insurgency. He is risen! And we sip hope.