You didn’t mean to, but somehow you wound up following the Council members to a newly hewn tomb. It smelled cool, like fresh stone and mud. You offered the two of them a hand and silently acknowledging you, they took it. It was such a shame that your first close encounter with this prophet was after he was dead.

As badly as his body was damaged, you had to swallow to keep from vomiting on multiple occasions. Thankfully, the smell of the tomb itself and the spices the man had on him camouflaged the smell. But nothing other than the linens could hide how the skin and flesh hung to the corpse by mere strips in places. How had the man born it as long as he did?

The one who called himself Joseph said you had done as much as you could do. “It will take a while to gather enough spices and cloths to treat him properly. Time that we don’t have since the sun will go down shortly.” You nodded and left the tomb. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go far. You’d been with a dead body. You’d be unclean anyway. There was no hurry.

Soldiers came and brought with them an immense stone nearly a man and a half high and almost as thick. It shook the ground as they rolled it towards the tomb. It took nearly half a manipulus to organize and direct the boulder. In the distance you saw the High Priest’s henchmen. Of course. It didn’t make sense that Rome would go to all this effort for one Jewish prophet. The religious hierarchy though…

You stood there staring at the stone until the light faded so you could no longer make out where the stone ended and where the hillside began. It was the Sabbath. Strange, you thought. It didn’t feel like the Sabbath. There was no rest in this day. With nothing else to do, you made your way back to where your family was staying.

They asked you about where you had been and what you had done. All you could say was that you weren’t clean. You couldn’t go to the Temple. No amount of washing or prayers or sacrifices would ever make you feel clean again. You had watched a man, an innocent man you are now convinced, though you’re not sure how, die brutally. And you did nothing other than watch. Worse, you were in the crowd that called for it.

How would you ever atone? How in God’s creation could you make this right?

Your family checked in on you throughout the Sabbath. But you didn’t worship with them. You couldn’t. It was as if the ability to worship had been wrenched right out of you.

You didn’t intend to fast, but that was what happened. And you couldn’t sleep either. You kept seeing him up there, bleeding. You kept hearing more of his words that you hadn’t noticed while he hung there. Had he really forgiven that thief? Then maybe, just maybe, he could forgive you too.

Before dawn broke, you were out of the lodging and walking. You knew you would wind up at the tomb. Your feet just kind of propelled you that way. As dawn was just clearing the Temple mount, you caught a glimpse of the tomb area. The stone was moved off to the side! And you saw something, or was it someone, glowing on the top.

You ran the last bit downhill to the tomb. Coming from the other direction was a group of women. You didn’t want to scare them so you ducked behind a tree and just watched. The ladies were carrying a variety of packages that you imagined were spices. You would have brought some if you had thought of it. You barely thought of anything other than feeling sorry for yourself.

The ladies saw the rock and then the shining thing spoke! You couldn’t make out the words, but it made the air shake. Was it an angel? Its message excited the ladies. All but one ran past your hiding place shouting, “He is alive!”

Alive? You had seen the body. That was nonsense. No one could be alive after that.

Still, their enthusiasm made a bit of something start to flutter within you. Was that hope?

You turned your focus back on the one woman that remained. She walked through the garden and among the plants, crying. Sometimes she looked back at the tomb, sometimes she looked at the sky, sometimes she stared off into nothingness.

A man appeared in front of her. You had never seen the like. One moment she was alone and the next he stood in front of her. But who was he? Why did he look familiar?

You edged closer. You heard her shout “Rabboni!” and lunge toward the man. Rabboni? The woman was one of Jesus’ followers. There was only one person she would have called that name.

She ran off, too, joy filling her steps. You were confused.

“I know you’re there,” said the man. “Do you want to see the nail prints in my hands?”

He walked right up to your hiding place.

“Jesus?” He certainly looked the Jesus you had seen a week ago on the donkey. But then even more like the man.

He smiled. “I forgive you.”

You can hardly believe what has happened. You have lived through it, and yet, it is still incomprehensible.

On Sunday, you followed him and his core disciples into Jerusalem. You got caught up in the emotion of the crowd until you couldn’t help shout Hallelujah, God save us, along with everyone else. You’d seen some of his miracles over the last three years, enough that you were willing to believe that he might be the Messiah. But you had your regular life, a family to provide for and couldn’t spend enough time in his company to be absolutely sure.

Had he really just raised that guy from Bethany from the dead? That was the talk. Your aunt’s cousin, too, was recently allowed back into the Temple after years of leprosy and the scuttlebutt was that this rabbi from Nazareth was the one who had healed him. An old family friend had hosted one of his inner circle in his house about two years ago and watched one of the disciples, (did he say it was the one called Peter?), heal his little girl’s leg. It had been twisted since birth. If the man’s close associates had that kind of power, then the man himself had to be at least close to divine. His miracles exceeded those of Elijah and Elisha.

You were in the city for the Passover anyway, so you decided to take time out from the preparations to see what all the hubbub was about.

Even so, you weren’t really prepared for the expression on his face.

He looked on the people and the city with such sorrow in his eyes you were almost certain that tears would pour out any minute. But they never did.

The crowd around him was so jubilant. Their joy and enthusiasm were palpable. A fair number of the crowd were recognizable Zealots, so were they convinced he was going to drive out Herod and Rome and claim David’s throne? That was your assumption, as well. You wouldn’t object to fewer taxes. And even though that centurion had been civil, trying to find accommodations for his troops on your farm was less than ideal. Yes, a reestablished Judah for the Jews would be a good thing.

So you watched as he was led into the city on a donkey, just as many kings before him. You even added your cloak the coverings on the road.

But when he got to the Temple… Honestly, that was rather embarrassing. You knew one of the moneychangers because you chose him every time you came to sacrifice. You couldn’t look Joseph in the eye as his table and all his boxes of coin went flying. You snuck out as quickly as you could and headed to where your family had reserved some space for the week.

Then… nothing. After all the commotion of Sunday, you expected to hear more about this potential Messiah. There were rumors that the high priest, the former high priest and some of their cronies were plotting against him. But it seemed that group was always plotting something, so that wasn’t totally unexpected.

On Thursday, as you went to get your lamb, you saw a couple of his followers. Turned out they were having their Passover meal not too far from where you were meeting with your family. They seemed in good spirits and wished you a happy Passover as they went by. Except for that one guy, the one who was their treasurer. He frowned a lot. Maybe this meal was costing them more than the itinerant group could really afford.

Friday morning, the world was darker somehow. You could tell as soon as you woke that things were wrong. You asked around. Didn’t you hear? That rabbi was taken prisoner. He was going to be crucified.

That didn’t make sense so you joined the crowd outside of Pilate’s meeting place. Some of the same Zealots who had praised him on Sunday were calling for his execution. They looked at you awfully suspiciously when you tried to just stand there and watch, so you joined in with a few “crucify him” chants even though your heart wasn’t in it.

At one point, you would have sworn he turned and looked at you directly. You gulped and tried to leave, but the crowd was too thick and too angry. Wasn’t the fact that he was already bleeding enough?

Evidently not.

You followed the group to Golgotha. What else could you do? You tried not to look when they drove the nails in, but at the same time, you were curious as to how he was handling it. Couldn’t the man who raised people from the dead stop all of the pain and agony?

His followers, other than one, were nowhere to be found. The one, you think the youngest of them all, stood with a few women. An older woman looked so much like how the rabbi had looked before this ordeal, you thought she must be his mother.

From the cross, much to your shock, the rabbi quoted Scripture! Sometimes you couldn’t hear it all because he had a hard time breathing. You recognized one of David’s psalms. Then, oh dear God, then he shouted “Telestai!” You heard a mighty sound like a storm, the earth shook and you feared for your life. You later learned that the curtain in the Temple had torn from top to bottom.

When the centurion in charge confirmed he was dead, two of the Council asked Pilate for his body and they took it away. Sad beyond all understanding, you walk away. How will you continue to celebrate after this?

Next week is Holy Week, so this is my last “generic” Lent post.

So with that introduction out of the way, I’ll explain the title.

Lent is a season of contradictions. It begins in winter and ends in spring. It begins with the life of Christ, moves to his death and then returns to his life again. It is about sacrifice and abundance. It is about grief and joy.

Because that is Lent at its core, a reminder about all aspects of the human condition and the amazing God who gives us life, this season should prompt you to discover something creative about yourself.

Maybe you’ll take up a new kind of cooking. Whether you want to try Oriental cuisine like Karl and I have done or something else, there are plenty of videos and walk-throughs and recipes online to give you a hand.

Maybe you want to try a craft. Lately, and very slowly, I’ve been making a jump rope. Not sure if it will ever get finished. But you could be much more motivated than me!

Maybe you want to try your hand at gardening. Or metal work. Or a new fitness craze. Or you want to learn about electricity. Or how to fix your own car. Or whatever. You are feeling the nudge to do something new.

God is all about the new. He says that he makes all things new. Part of that comes yearly with spring. But another bigger part can come in us if we embrace where he’s leading us instead of fearing the change.

In Lent, we get to walk with Jesus. We get to walk with the God-Man who walked on water. We get to travel with him instantly from the middle of the lake to the shore. We get to walk through crowds who hate us, but don’t see us because of him. We get to talk with people who died once, but now show up on mountaintops to see Jesus and speak with him. We get to live in the once impossible moments, in the world of miracles, because we walk with Jesus.

As you’ve been reading this, maybe something came to mind. And then, almost immediately, you squashed it down. I can’t, you say. I’m too (fill in the blank). Maybe too tired, too busy, too old, too young, too inexperienced, too uneducated, too respectable, too whatever-the-excuse. Remember, as Paul says in Philippians, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. He will complete the work he inspires you to do. He will complete the work he inspires me to do.

We? We walk with him. We breathe. We depend on him. We exist as part of the vine. We let him do the work.

That’s when the new happens. That’s when creativity blossoms.

Maybe you’re like one of the students I’ve worked with over the years and you don’t think you’re creative. Let Jesus show you how he wired you to fill his world. Creativity is not limited to the arts! Or maybe you’re like me and you know where he inspires you, but you beat yourself up whenever you think you haven’t done enough.

I remind you, as I remind myself, our job is to walk. He does the work.

So as Lent begins winding up, take a step into the new where he is calling you. And then, let him do the work.

You won’t regret it. And neither will I.