Good Friday dawns outside my bedroom window. The sweeping view causes me to pause and think of a man hanging on a cross in a faraway land on a lonely hill. The bright sunlit scene before me belies what happened to a man called Jesus over 2000 years ago. This is our second Easter in our new home. Last year it was a chance to escape the city for a long weekend and time out from work. For some Easter is a time to reflect on the actions of this man who came to live among us and then die so we could be forgiven for our sins and enjoy life in its fullness. The sermon for the day uses the modern analogy of a garbage truck travelling through the town picking up everyone’s burdens and dross along the way. I am conflicted this day because it is the first time that Australian Rules Football has been played on Good Friday and my team is playing. They lost by the way!
Easter is soon followed by ANZAC Day. This is a time to remember those who paid the ultimate sacrifice to fight a battle in a faraway land on our behalf and I am reminded again of a man on a cross who well understood what unconditional love and sacrifice means.
Easter and ANZAC have come and gone this year, but I am forever grateful for the gift of living free in this country and the blessings that I enjoy.