It is increasingly hard to write concisely and meaningfully about my faith in recent years. I’ve taken steps away from identifying with established Christianity, sickened by some of the ways it has been misrepresented and misused, saddened that it is good leaders who are the rare surprises, whilst abuse of power is what we have come to expect. I feel dismay at the prevalence of unkindness and narrow thinking. Closed mindedness and lack of true inclusion combined with slick, surface level church social media campaigns make me feel lonely and confused.

As Easter approaches, questions abound. Can Christianity still offer any kind of hope in this crazy, chaotic world? Is it still possible to experience joy in our faith? Is it even appropriate to experience joy in our faith at this time?

I often quote Mary Oliver, who wrote, “There are so many stories more beautiful than answers”. And, as I return, again and again to the story and stories of Jesus, I find hope return.

Jesus defied the leaders who wanted faith as a means of making themselves feel good, or a way to control others. He focused on living with love; drawing our attention to the goodness of God in our world, in others, in ourselves. He prayed; he rested; he gave out again and again; he spoke kindly; he challenged abuses of power. He told us that the religion God loves is a “flexible heart”.

After he died, his followers were confused, perhaps asking similar questions to those we are asking today. Where is our hope, now? But Jesus again came, and walked with them and ate with them and told them goodness is still here, and you get to see it and feel it and spread it.

Church remains a challenge for me. The state of the world in general remains a challenge for me.

But Jesus and his example and his stories remain a source of hope and joy.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen the goodness Jesus showed and shared. I’ve stood at the top of the sand dunes and looked out to sea and felt a Spring breeze as my children explored below me. I have shared meals with friends and we have encouraged each other and listened to one another. We have found acceptance as we are, and hopefully showed this to others too. We have rested with family and helped with each other’s children, and hopefully with one another’s questions and fears too. We have celebrated being together and being in this world. Perhaps we are tired, but we have love in our hearts and our stories – into which our faith is inextricably woven – are not over yet.