I sit here on Easter morning, letting the cool breeze in through the sliding door. I savor the freshness of this morning and feel more than a bit sad at the same time. Or guilty. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been inside “Church.” A year ago I decided to lay down my scramble that started to make me question my reasons for going. Not questioning my faith, but the reasons behind why I would wake up with anxiety and a pressure to get my kids out the door and hopefully into church before worship started. I stopped and set it down because we were all so tired. It felt meaningless.
I pondered this morning about everyone celebrating Christ’s resurrection today. I wondered how many truly feel the joy and hope of what that means in their own lives, or how many just put on a good face and show up trying to celebrate. Personally, I see and celebrate much resurrection in my own life, leading me to where I am today. But part of me feels stuck in Good Friday still, in the darkness and sadness of not seeing what’s coming on Sunday. Life out of death with no evidence in sight yet.
A MILLION RESURRECTIONS
However, as I write I realize that’s what this is all about. Celebrating and hoping for what we know can and will come. Because we need to translate the full story and recognize the one resurrected life of Christ we celebrate today gives us a life resurrected once and a million times over. The moments in days of a lifetime that have gone sideways.
So today, I celebrate. I will literally celebrate the hell out of Easter Sunday. I celebrate all the ways I feel like my heart and my life were dead and have been brought new life. I celebrate the dark place of uncertainty in my kids’ hearts today because I know it will be ok. I know there is a love so much greater than this friday-not-seeing. I can celebrate because there is a knowing of resurrection that comes out of it. There is victory, hope, joy and total beauty in that knowing.