Easter offers promise of redemption

Still, many of us, of all backgrounds and beliefs, have experienced redemption of some sort, said William B. Lawrence, dean of the Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University in Dallas.

It might be when an addict has reached rock bottom and finally finds his way out, he said. Or after one survives financial ruin or deals with a terminal illness.

Although these experiences may fall short of the ideal of resurrection — “overcoming death, not the postponement of it,” Lawrence said — they can still connect us to the feelings of hope and renewal Christians celebrate today.

The stories of personal redemption inside the section bear witness to that.

Dominika Borsos, 18, Atlanta, student, Oglethorpe University

In 2007, I was suspended from school after having made a bad decision. The repercussions of that decision seemed at the time outrageous. I had lost everything, but most importantly, I lost my faith. After spending a few months at home, I became a stranger to this world. I no longer had friends. I never picked up my phone. I spent my days crying.

But one day, a neighbor who knew about my difficulties invited me to her church’s youth program. I hesitated but I went and I started to go regularly. I became enthusiastic about Sunday school. It felt great!

The kids welcomed and accepted me. They showed me that forgiveness, unconditional love and true friendship were possible. It was those kinds of moments I shared with my peers that made me start believing in God again. So when Easter was approaching in 2009, I decided to reclaim Jesus in my heart and I was baptized shortly thereafter.

The Rev. Morris Hudgins, 64, Marietta, interim minister, Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation, Sandy Springs

As a Methodist and then a Unitarian Universalist, I have been inspired by the life and values of Jesus. One of those values is redemption. My personal story of redemption began when I realized that my Virginia ancestors who could not read or write bought and sold slaves.

In 2001, while living in Cincinnati, my family and I were given the opportunity to make things right. Inspired by Jesus and Martin Luther King Jr., we decided to apologize for the treatment of an African-American minister early in the 20th century. We called it the “Carter Reconciliation Project.” We invited members of the W.H.G. Carter family to hear our apology. We expected a handful of the Carter family to attend. Instead, more than 100 family members from all over the country came to hear and accept our apology. It was a profoundly moving experience of redemption and reconciliation.

I continue to be inspired by the life of Jesus, the values he promoted, the message he preached: that the Kingdom of God is available to all in this world if we live a life of love, redemption, forgiveness and reconciliation.

Soumaya Khalifa. 54, Peachtree City, Intercultural consultant and executive director, Islamic Speakers Bureau of Atlanta

It was in 2000 when my parents realized that my mother had Alzheimer’s disease, and that it was advancing rather fast. One of her wishes was to perform Hajj, or pilgrimage, one more time. But she knew that it would be very difficult for her without a female companion.

So, my parents invited me to join them for the journey to Mecca every Muslim wishes to make. Hajj is one of the acts of worship that Muslims are required to do once in their lifetime if they are financially and physically capable. We believe that by performing Hajj one’s sins are erased. It is an act of worship for redemption where Muslims follow in the footsteps of Prophet Abraham and his family.

There were about 3 million people from every corner of the world when we arrived. I will never forget the moment I walked in to see the Kaaba, our most sacred shrine, built by the prophets in the heart of Mecca. I felt so close to our Creator that I broke into tears. The closeness increased as I prayed and observed other pilgrims praying, crying and asking God for forgiveness.

My mother died four years ago, but to this day, I thank God for the blessings of that special journey, of being able to perform Hajj with her.

Glenn Burton, 30, Atlanta, founder, Reach Out World Ministries

On Dec. 9, 1994, with the house full of family and friends, a gang affiliate entered, put a gun to my back and shot me. As I lay on the kitchen floor, slipping in and out of consciousness, I looked at my mother, and whispered, “I love you. I’ll see you later.”

I woke up at Minnesota’s Ramsey County Hospital, where I remember the doctor telling my mother: “Ma’am, I don’t know if you believe in any higher power, or anything like that, but I can tell you that [neither] me nor my team had anything to do with his survival. This is a miracle.”

Nearly five years later, I would survive a second shooting and land in prison for drug-dealing. It was there that I felt God telling me to move to Atlanta because he had something for me to do.

For two years, I felt like Jonah, running from God’s call. I couldn’t shake my addiction to drug dealing, pimping and shootouts. Eventually, though, I did move here, and before long ended up living on the street with my 2-year-old daughter. I sought help from one church after the other but no one would help me — except Ebenezer Baptist Church. I found love there, friendship, purpose and people willing to go the extra mile with me.

More than anything, I realized the redeeming power of God’s love in my life. He so loved me that he gave his only son to die for every wrong I’d committed and through his death and resurrection made me joint heirs with Christ. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Tanya Yegnes, 35, Alpharetta, founder, Jolidays4kids

I was born in Kiev, Ukraine, and by the time I was 14 I had already decided that my destiny would be to make films and write poetry. I was in love for the first time in my life, wandering around alleys to hear the echoes of our voices falling down into wells of ancient backyards. My Russian language was a thread to the kite of my existence.

But one day I was told I had to leave; that in my new home, Israel, there would be new dreams and I would “build a better future.” Still, I could not ease that smashing feeling of disaster, knowing that my roots would be cut off and my lips would have no language to sing with. Unable to feel and to create in Russian, I felt disconnected to my roots, physically and spiritually.

During my first years in Israel, I was determined to reinvent myself. I shortened my name, got my A levels in electronics and completed army service. I fell in love. I deleted my past by switching languages, reading and speaking only in Hebrew.

Then, about five years ago, my Jewish Israeli soul began making peace with its diaspora roots. I could write in Hebrew. I could hear the melody of the language. I felt like I had come home.

No longer trapped in the solitude of my soul, I could finally make peace with my damaged Russian roots. I felt redeemed.

Faye McDonald Smith, 60, Atlanta, communications specialist, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Last fall I lost my only sister, Yuletta Mitchell. She was the absolute best “big sis” that anyone could ask for — always there for me as we were growing up, and then later when I had my own family. Even though she lived out of town, she made it a point to be at every recital, graduation, special event. I could count on her for wise advice. We were more than sisters; we were close friends.

Yuletta was the picture of health, so the news of her sudden death late last year sent me tumbling into a place of darkness and denial. The pain, grief and devastation seemed impossible to overcome. For weeks I felt an absence of hope and, in a way, that I had let God down. Where was my faith in all of this? Didn’t I know that God would see me through? The rational me would say “yes.” But this was a time when I was not rational. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I lost 20 pounds. I was a wreck — physically, emotionally, spiritually.

I had created my own hell; something I had to “get through” in order to come out whole on the other side.

A comforting visit from my pastor and the fervent prayers of my family, friends, and faith community helped bring me through the darkness.

I became a new me — a better me. Stronger. Cleansed. Redeemed all over again. Amen and Alleluia.

These first-person accounts were edited for length and clarity.