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Ask Me...

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By Percipia
I grew up on a farm. We called it Glen View Acres. We kept hoping somebody would ask us why we called it Glen View Acres. If they had, we would have taken them to the kitchen window, pointed across the road and said, “See that trailer? Glen lives in that trailer. We see him, sometimes.”

Nobody ever asked. We thought it was hilarious, but unless you were in on the joke, you don’t even know there was one.

I’m starting to think that Easter is like that. Those of us who are Christ followers look at the pink bunnies and pastel cardboard tulips and chocolate SpongeBobs and shake our heads sadly and go to church. We wish somebody would ask us why we’re shaking our heads, why we’re going to church on a Friday morning so we could tell them. Because we really do have something to say. Something that matters and is good and true. But nobody asks.

We really, really, really need to ask ourselves why nobody asks.
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