Easter Stories

Decades ago, I spent every waking moment as a Real Estate Broker. “Full-time job” does not come close to explaining what is required. Those who doubt can ask my daughter. Although this occupation gave me the flexibility I needed as a single parent, there were untold numbers of times when the cost of this flexibility was pointed directly in her direction. I can only say that I’m sorry.

But today is Easter Sunday and I have a story to tell.

I remembered an Easter sermon from several years ago. The details are a bit sketchy, but I believe that it went something like this.

A family of four was doing well until a medical emergency triggered the cascading effects of tragedy. The time needed to engage with this sickness eventually gave rise to job loss along with medical insurance. Things tightly spiraled downward. It was as if everything was fine one day, and the next day, nothing was fine.

Facing foreclosure was serious but the lack of nourishment for all was just as bad. The family was becoming destitute with nowhere to turn. They were sincerely grateful for the kindness and help experienced but it was mainly one-time assistance from neighbors, local churches, and family. The cold hard truth defined sporadic generosity as a drop in the ocean.

Huddled together in the dark, each member questioned the survival of the family unit. People were on edge; the looming fear of homelessness and constant hunger was taking its toll. 

The buzzing of the doorbell brought the adults back to full consciousness.  “Will you answer the door, or should I get it?”, was spoken with a simple shrug as they looked at each other.

A closed door opened to a miracle. They recognized him as one of the neighbors but didn’t know him. Nevertheless, he was standing on the porch surrounded by several boxes of groceries. He asked if he could help them unpack the staples. He also asked if he could come in and talk for a while.

In their present condition, they could not refuse his requests. After the new provisions filled empty cupboards, the family took their seats with the neighbor. A long-forgotten ritual saw coffee, sweets, and juice set proudly on the table.

The neighbor explained he had heard about the family's crisis and wanted to discuss a few things that he said, “Might help.” He started by asking a ton of questions. He was not being nosy, just being careful so that he would know exactly what the family needed. He did not want to assume anything. 

So, they talked about house payments and mortgages. They talked about medical bills and insurance. They talked about things people rarely talk about to strangers or even family. There was nothing but humbleness in the room from all participants.

In the end, the room became silent. The family had no idea what the neighbor was thinking. They were apprehensive about the next steps. They had discussed their attempts to remedy their situation. They had laughed and cried together, and it was clear - they needed much.

But trepidation lasted only a few moments.  While their heads were bowed in shame, the neighbor had already begun to work. Stealthily he had withdrawn a pen and checkbook from his pocket. When the adults had heard the scratching of the pen on paper, their eyes lifted and met the neighbor's smiling face. 

A light blue, 6’x2.75” piece of paper was carefully slipped between the mother and father. As they looked down, disbelief clouded their faces. They looked at each other and then at the neighbor they had met only tonight. The conversation of the evening flashed through their minds. The numbers – when adding them up were less than the check on the table. Less than the total of their mortgage, medical bills, car loan, and insurance, 

How can this be? 

How could this man sitting in front of them be willing to produce a bank draft that would cover, well everything and then some? 

What would make someone do such a thing?

What might come next? What does he want from us?

Can we trust him?

The neighbor began to speak. He told them stories about past struggles and the blessings he had received over the years. He told them that this was not a loan, but a gift and that no debt would be incurred when cashing the check. He mentioned that nothing he had done in his entire life compared to this moment if only they would accept his gift.

With joyful hearts overflowing with gratitude, the family accepted.

Well, the sermon’s punch line went something like this.

When Jesus died on the cross, he slid a 6”x2.75” piece of paper towards us. Like the story, Jesus paid for everything. The little blue paper was not a common check, however. It was a great deal more serious than money. 

On it was written, My life for yours.  

Those questions asked by the family were answered with one word: Love. 

Now I don’t know how much of that story was true. No names were mentioned in the sermon that day. And, I’m sure my retelling falls well short of matching exactly what I heard. But, like any parable, it’s not the veracity that matters, it’s the lesson.

Interestingly, I have a similar story - and it's true.

A banker told me of a meeting with one of my Real Estate clients. This client was in the business of providing homes for intellectually challenged people. Over the years, they purchased a substantial property inventory with my representation as their realtor. 

It seems that a woman who had been abused as a child and again as a wife opened a residence for those who were experiencing similar things. As is common, this was never going to be a money-making business.  But through hard work, dedicated volunteers, and constant donation pleas, the residence had been successful for the most part. 

But for various reasons, things had changed, and funding was inadequate to house and feed these women and children she loved dearly. 

Just before their meeting, the banker had taken a call from the women. Before they started, the banker revealed the content of his phone conversation.  Being supportive of the program in the past, he was now distressed that foreclosure was imminent.  

Since talking about this call, the scheduled meeting soon became secondary to the discussion. After asking a few questions and looking at the woman’s file, my client asked the banker to call the woman back. 

The woman and my client had a brief discussion. She was asked several questions, and a meeting was set for a couple of days later for my client and this woman. My client put the phone on hold, talked with the banker for a minute, and then resumed the call. 

My client informed the woman that he was looking forward to seeing her. He expressed his encouragement for the things she was doing for others. 

He also informed her that he would present her with a formal Satisfaction of Mortgage at the arranged time of their meeting. 

I can only guess the woman's reactions. There might have been tears of unimaginable relief for the lifted burden. Perhaps she knew an overwhelming feeling of undeserved mercy. I want to believe that she expressed indescribable gratitude as well.

We celebrate a Divine gift today: The gift of My life for yours. 

I hope we feel it in our hearts and souls. 

I hope we shed tears of relief. 

I hope that we experience the humbleness of undeserved mercy. 

I hope that indescribable and expressive gratitude becomes an integral part of our lives from this day forward as we recognize the enormity of this gift.

Happy Easter.