So there you have it.

The Christian faith grounds itself here, in this strange Easter event, this claim that a dead guy is now alive.

Now there are all sorts of legitimate, constructive, “you can’t be serious” comments to write here.  And mark my words, I will write them, because I have uttered them on at least 523 occasions.

But for the moment, let’s linger in this Christian mystery, this strange-to-swallow faith claim upon which we Christians base our religious underpinnings.

It makes no sense.  I know that.

But when you get right down to it, very little does, regardless of one’s religious sensibilities.  We even built an amazing, fascinating, bazillion dollar atom smasher-smusheroo to learn more about the beginnings of creation because, in short and with all due respect, nobody has a for-certain, for-sure, beyond a doubt, clue. (Sure is fun wondering, though).

We do have faith, however, that somehow, the world began, and here we are, and now we do something with that.

So out of all the interesting, provocative, tantalizing, plausible places into which we could place our trust, Christians pitch our tents by the empty tomb.

For Christians, ideally, faith in this particular interesting, provocative, tantalizing, plausible places has certain implications.

Like we believe that life overcomes death.

Like we believe that there is more to do with our lives than preserve them.

Like we believe that death is real, and life is real-er.

So into this mysterious world with its mysterious histories and stories, Christians are sent out to be ambassadors of life.

To life!