This week in Refractions it’s a blast from the past as we revisit a Journey community blog from 2008. So much has changed, so much is the same; the journey continues…

Today I am thinking about all of the things I "gave up" as a child during the Lenten season. Candy, cigarettes (later in life), still not ready to give up wine, yada, yada, yada.

However, I am really ready to give up anxiety. God, the stuff it breeds. Also, its two ugly cousins, fear and bigotry can go the way of anxiety, too, as far as I am concerned.

I am not what one would identify as a prejudiced person, as I am educated and fairly PC. However, as we move into this new election year and I hear all the media-portrayed fears, I realize they are playing to an institutionalized anxiety and bigotry that most of us would not ever recognize in ourselves.

Today, I want to follow that old Al Anon slogan: "Let Go, Let God!" It's another tall order. But I do not want a world where others are excluded. I do not want a world where I cannot see the vulnerability of my fellow human beings. I do not want a world where I cannot see the face of God, except in my dear animals. I realize that to have that world, it has to start with me, and to trust that God will do the rest.

So, for today, and hopefully for many days after Lent, I will engage my curiosity instead of my fear. I will create harmony instead of war, and I will try to up lift others, instead of myself.

This week in Refractions it’s a blast from the past as we revisit a Journey community blog from 2008. So much has changed, so much is the same; the journey continues…

I had an interesting theological conversation with our son the other day. He's newly seven, in first grade, and has a cavalier attitude toward the nature of reality. I never know what he'll say next. So, out of the blue, Jamie asks me, "Mama, did Jesus die for all of us?" Inside my head and with lightning speed, I analyze the words and reinterpret them out of Jamie-speak and into ordinary language, consider my own beliefs about the importance of the crucifixion which don't focus too much on the redemption aspect, assess Jamie's level of interest in my answer and just how long a seven-year-old might want to have this conversation. After I a second, I say, "Yes, honey." A whole series of questions eliciting more information followed: what about people in other countries? Yes. On the moon? Yes. On other planets? Yes. (After all, why not? If you've got an answer that works, stick with it.) What about planets outside the solar system? Yes. Eventually we established that Jesus died for everyone, everywhere, in the entire universe. "Whew," sighed Jamie, "that's a lot to die for."

At this point, he still seemed pretty interested in the conversation, so I took a chance on seizing a teachable moment. I decided to try to explain to Jamie what Easter means to me. God loves us all very much, I told my son, and wants us to love each other too. That idea is so important that God sent Jesus to teach us about it. Jesus knew this message was really important too, so much so that he was willing to sacrifice himself if that would help us all understand about God's love for us and about loving each other. "How did he do that?" Jamie asks. Well, he let himself be captured and killed. He didn't fight the soldiers who arrested him, he didn't run away, he didn't ask his friends to try and get him out of jail, I explained. He sacrificed himself by letting the Romans kill him, because Jesus knew that would teach everyone about God's love. This, astonishingly, seemed to make some sense to Jamie. Now satisfied with the conversation, he gave me a hug and went off to play.

And from the next room, I heard Jamie asking his nine-year-old sister about Jesus. Perhaps he wanted to test Rachel's knowledge, or mine, or maybe he just wanted a second opinion. You never know with our kids. His sister, with some asperity, answered, "Yes, Jamie, Jesus died for our sins. Mama just explained all that. Weren't you listening?" And as I shake my head and laugh, I make plans to have the same conversation again -- with Rachel.