cross purposes

This lunchtime we had a Good Friday walk of witness through Colchester Town Centre, led by the Salvation Army band. As is usual we finished that the war memorial outside Castle Park gates. The event was even reported live on BBC Essex radio.

This year our reflections were led by the Bishop of Chelmsford, Rt Revd Stephen Cottrell. He spoke about hope and how each week millions of people try to buy hope – buying lottery tickets and scratchcards. He pointed out that in order for there to be one winner there have to be millions of losers.

Good Friday is the antithesis of that equation: one person lost his life in order that millions might gain new life. Jesus sacrificed himself in order that we might have an eternal hope.

It is a very clever juxtaposition of concepts: using cultural icons and images such as the lottery and whilst pointing out the inherent unfairness he also points out the inherent unfairness in Good Friday.

What would you do if you won the lottery? How would you celebrate? We have been offered something far more significant and lasting than a lottery win. I for one am guilty of taking that for granted too often and am grateful for this Good Friday reminder.

Be blessed, be a blessing.

 

Tenuous link to the events above:

A film crew was on location in the middle of Dartmoor. One day an old weathered chap who looked like he had lived on the moor his whole life strolled up to the director and said, “Arrr, it’s gwin ter rain tomorrer.”

The next day it rained.

A week later, the old chap went up to the director and said, “Arrr, tomorrer there’s gwin ter be a biiig storm.”

The next day there was a massive thunderstorm.

“This man is incredible,” said the director. He told his secretary to hire him to give them weather forecasts. However, after several successful predictions, the old man didn’t show up for two weeks.

Finally the director sent for him. “I have to shoot a big scene tomorrow,” said the director, “and I’m depending on you. What will the weather be like?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno,” he said. “My radio is broken.”

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