Where the gospels end we begin

​Some mornings, when I read my Bob Goff devotional, there is one line that jumps out to me. It stirs my thoughts and moves me to share it. This morning, though, it was almost every line.

Maybe because I've always felt this sense of defeat on the other side of Easter. We move through this big Lenten build up to Holy Week, then Holy Week arrives and the death on the cross, and then, bam - Jesus rises from the dead.

Oh this story is getting good. Grab the popcorn.

But, with excitement, as I turn the page at the end of all four of the gospels, I find no more pages. That's it. Just like watching the final episode of season 3 of Ozark, I'm left screaming, wait, what next?

As Christians, it's easy to watch the story of Lent and Holy Week and then sit back and wait for season 4. Proclaim, man that was good, and then begin skimming Netflix for the next series to binge watch.

But that's not how the Easter story was supposed to go. When we turn the last page of the gospels, you know what we're supposed to find? We're supposed to find us. In fact, maybe it would be a good idea to post one of those senior pictures that are trending online in your bible at the end of each of the gospels.

Jesus rising from the dead - that was really an advertisement for an upcoming show. That was Jesus, standing outside an empty tomb, saying you thought that was good, watch what Keith's about to do.

Bob Goff says we're not going to convince people the story of the resurrection is true with bible verses. He says we'll convince them "with the kind of sacrificial love that precludes every other explanation."

That's not the sequel, that's the next page: us convincing people the Easter show they just saw wasn't ficition.

I talked with a friend of mine this week. He's the CEO of a large non-profit. I asked him if he thought the non-profit world might get a boom from this sudden infusion we're seeing of "love your neighbor."

In so many words, he told me he's not as optimistic about that boom as I might be.

I've thought about that the last few days. I've thought about it and paid more attention to some of the divides that seem to be growing just on the other side of the many acts of charity I've been clinging to. And in many arenas, the fingers are pointing harder with blame, the interactions are spilling over with discontent, the love your neighbor boom in those spaces is mired in a great depression.

We have such a great opportunity, here and now, to write the next page of the gospels. Goff says, "It's easy to love people who love us back, but the empty tomb has far more depth than that."

I read that and found myself secretly singing - in my head of course - the old 70's Bee Gees song - How Deep Is Your Love? Oh, it's a sappy love song, but the question is a valid one. How deep is your love?

No one questions that depth of Jesus tomb. One of the last things he did before he was placed there was ask his father to forgive the people who were executing him. That's a deep tomb.

But how deep is our love. I think the yardstick for measuring it is found in this phrase:

"precludes every other explanation."

How many people are we loving that defies explanation? How many people are we loving that causes people to step back and look at our love like they are staring in disbelief at an empty tomb?

How many people are coming to believe the miracle of Easter because of the miracle they see in the way we love?

We were never meant to be season 4, we were meant to be the next page in the gospels.