I Choose to Believe

The Easter Bunny still comes to my house. So does Santa, and though I’ve never caught one, I’m pretty sure some leprechauns keep hiding my keys. I’m always shocked, and a bit surprised, when someone tells me those characters stopped visiting them long ago. What a shame. 

I learned when I was quite young that the longer I “believed” in Santa and the Easter Bunny, the longer they’d keep bringing me stuff. My mother told me when I was in second grade that children who don’t believe in Santa might not get a visit from him, and my mother knows what she’s talking about. So I kept believing and kept believing, and so far I’ve always had a stocking full of goodies on Christmas morning, and some kind of treat on Easter. 

Not sure what the deal is with the leprechauns, but they stick around my house all year. 

To be honest, I do help Santa and the Easter Bunny out. I mean, think about it. Their jobs are enormous and overwhelming, and we should always offer assistance when we can, don’t you think? So I don’t mind a bit if I have to pick up my own gifts from the store, or order them online, and have them ready for the big day. It’s the least I can do. 

It’s important for me to believe in these characters that most adults stopped believing in when they were children. After all, I’m a writer, and everyone knows writers are quirky and weird. And since I get to choose at least some of my quirks, I choose to believe. 

Plus, I really like to get prizes. 

While my level of belief may affect whether or not I get an Easter basket, it doesn’t affect the facts surrounding the real meaning of Easter. The truth is, Jesus Christ is God’s Son, whether I believe it or not. He was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born to a virgin mother and a carpenter stepfather. He grew up like any other Jewish boy of that time, working alongside his father in the carpenter’s shop, going to temple, and learning scripture. When he was still a young man, he began to travel around, telling people how much God loved them. He sought out people who were hurting, and he comforted them. He looked for the sick, and he healed them. He found people who were rejected and condemned by society and protected them. Then he told them God didn’t come to condemn anybody; God wants to welcome us all into His family. 

He said that in order to keep his family and his home from being the hot mess society had become, he couldn’t allow sin in. He wants the people, but not their rebellion or anger or lies or whatever else happens to be crammed in our oversized baggage. He wants us to let go of all that, walk away from it, and join him. 

Crowds loved him, at first.

The religious people hated him. 

A mob formed, and soon, everybody decided Jesus was crazy. He was a liar. They wanted him dead. 

And they killed him. 

But the truth is, Jesus, God’s son, is stronger than death.

He died on a Friday.

He conquered death, and every bit of sin that put him in the grave, and rose again on a Sunday. And he’s still alive. 

He still heals the sick.

He still comforts the hurting.

He still protects the innocent and the oppressed.

He still spreads his message of love and inclusion and forgiveness and acceptance.  

And that’s the truth, whether I believe it or not. 

I choose to believe. 

 “For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures,” 1 Corinthians 15:3-4.