That he still bore scars is what I’ve always thought so beautiful. It’s what’s intrigued me more than almost anything else all these years about the story so many celebrate at Easter all over the world, believers, half-believers, unbelievers too. The story of resurrection, the idea of it, the hope of it.
The genius and grace of our faith is that we’re allowed to begin again; we’re invited to start over—over and over again. No matter what; no matter how bad it gets.