It is in the rawness of death that the grace of our Creator is revealed.
On January 5, 1997 my brother Jon was killed on our driveway; he was 17 years old. While lying on his back repairing the oil pump, the brakes of Jon’s old yellow truck suddenly gave way, rolled over his neck and suffocated him.
The scream that bellowed from my mother’s gut is seared into my soul forever.
This Easter Sunday I have no choice but to parallel Jon’s story with Jesus’ Passion, as the wisdom that often partners with death changes one’s perspective on everything - including the nature of God and Holy Week.
On January 5, 1997 my brother Jon was killed on our driveway; he was 17 years old. While lying on his back repairing the oil pump, the brakes of Jon’s old yellow truck suddenly gave way, rolled over his neck and suffocated him.
The scream that bellowed from my mother’s gut is seared into my soul forever.
This Easter Sunday I have no choice but to parallel Jon’s story with Jesus’ Passion, as the wisdom that often partners with death changes one’s perspective on everything - including the nature of God and Holy Week.
