I was about twelve before I even knew that Easter was about Jesus. He got swallowed up in colored eggs and green plastic grass and black jellybeans that I would pawn off on my Dad. I remember sitting in church one day and for whatever reason I was actually listening to the pastor. I heard him speak of Jesus rising from the dead and he said, “This is why we celebrate Easter!”
I was shocked. It wasn’t about candy? I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t clued into it before.
Since then I’ve tried to focus more on Jesus and thank Him for what He did for me. I mean, you don’t rise from the dead everyday.
This year, Easter was a struggle for me. For many reasons, I’ve been battling exhaustion, and the thought of joyfully celebrating was more than I could take. It’s not that I don’t want to thank Jesus. I just don’t want to thank Him with loud music and deafening “Hallelujahs!”
I think I also struggled with the fact that Easter seems to have become no more than a chance to impress the unchurched. Let’s put on our Sunday finest (or not, since we want to impress the “come as you are” group), choose our best music, preach our best sermon, and see if we can’t get these darned C&E Christians to stay put for once.
Not that that’s not a valiant effort. Reaching out to the unchurched is important and one of the things we’re called to. But I long for something more, something real, something down-in-the-dirt, something Jesus would have done kind of thing.
I stumbled across this article last week and thought, “This is the kind of thing I want to take part in.”
Please read the article if you have time. It’s a sweet story pulled from a book, and reading it makes me want to be a part of that church. Doing what they did makes me sweaty and nervous just thinking about it, which means it’s probably something that needs to be done.
There is a part two to the story, and it’s also worth a read if you have time.
I hope you had a blessed Easter.