Five Days in a World That Still Crucifies
We know this story.
A table.
A betrayal.
An arrest under cover of night.
A trial shaped by power.
An execution justified as necessary.
A silence that follows.
And then—resurrection.
We know how it goes. We have rehearsed it for years.
But what happens when we stop telling it as something that happened,
and begin to ask where it is happening?
Because the world is not short of crosses.
Some of those crosses stand in places
whose borders we helped draw,
whose histories we helped fracture,
whose futures we still influence
through policy, trade, and quiet agreement.
This is not distant.
It is entangled.
Cities reduced to rubble.
Civilians described as collateral.
Violence explained, defended, funded.
Enemies clearly named.
Neighbours quietly excluded.
And still we come to the table.
Still we break bread.
Still we say his name.
This series is not an attempt to be balanced.
It is an attempt to be honest.
Across five days—Maundy Thursday to Easter Monday—we will walk the Easter story again, but not at a safe distance. We will hold it alongside the realities of our present moment: war, displacement, political power, religious certainty, and the ways in which Christianity is sometimes entangled with them.
We will ask uncomfortable questions:
Who would Jesus exclude?
Who would Jesus bomb?
Would Jesus fear the stranger, or walk with them?
And what does it mean to follow a crucified Messiah in a world that still crucifies?
This is not about easy answers.
It is about refusing to let the story become disconnected from the world it speaks into.
Because if Easter means anything,
it must mean something here.
