The truth of Easter

Happy Easter.

As I woke up this morning and sleepily scrolled through my Facebook feed, I saw the colorful pictures and energetic posts.

“He is Risen!”

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, He is risen!”

“Happy Easter!”

Instead of happiness and excitement at my risen Lord, I felt that all familiar and unwelcome feeling of frustration. Why is it that on this most joyous of all days I can’t simply feel… happy? Why do these ugly emotions continue to surface?

I don’t have all the answers, although I have some rough ideas. I’m still working through my issues. I still get hung up on some stupid stuff with the church. I’m working, processing. I’m getting there. Slowly.

I long to feel simple feelings of happiness, contentedness, joy, and peace. Years ago I felt them. I felt close to my risen Savior. Not so much this year.

Then I remembered that the truth of Easter does not hinge on my feelings and frustrations toward my faith. It doesn’t depend on me feeling happy. Jesus is risen, and no amount of nasty feelings can change that.

So today I will focus on time with family. I will relish the chance to make some pies from scratch that will pare perfectly with my husband’s homemade ice cream. I will snuggle a sweet puppy who will be so excited to see me that she will pee on the floor. I will remember how incredibly blessed I am and how much Jesus is in the little things.

Whether you are loudly proclaiming from the rooftops or huddling under a blanket on your couch, Happy Easter. Whether you are filled with joyous emotions or struggling to force a smile, Jesus has risen.

Happy Easter friends.

3 Replies to “The truth of Easter”

  1. Thank you Jamie for this gracious reminder and for permission to have all the feelings. To counteract all the similar posts in my FB feed, I posted a picture of Chewbacca in bunny

    I also reminded myself repeatedly that the faith I have left, the little mustard seed or glowing ember of belief I hold onto, relies on Easter: the concept not the holiday. Instead of bellowing “Up from the grave he arose!” like I did every Easter of my childhood, I silently told myself “He makes all things new.”

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