A couple of years ago the Kindergartener, who was 4 at the time, was relaying her version of the Easter story to me. It went like this:
“Jesus died. They put him in a tomb. But, he rised!! And, then… he got married.”
If Hollywood were writing the script this might be how it played out. But, we know better. This isn’t a chick flick. The real story is more like:
Jesus rode into Jerusalem heralded as a king. In a matter of days the same people who celebrated his entry sided with the authorities and turned on him. Jesus was crucified. He was put in a tomb. He arose. And, then… he ascended!
It’s a more radical and unfathomable plot than most of us would write on our own.
Today is Maundy Thursday, the day that focuses on the Last Supper and continues the liturgical church’s movement toward Resurrection Sunday. I am no expert on Holy Week observances, but each year I feel like I am a little more qualified to speak on how not to do Holy Week.
A few nights ago our youngest child woke us up at 4 in the morning because she was congested. She tossed and turned for the next few hours making it impossible for her or us to go back to sleep. Just that one setback on sleep has affected my patience and self-control for several days. I need decent rest, coffee, food, prayer, exercise and a slew of other things in order to stay functional and kind.
A little sleep deprivation reminds me that I’m weak.
Last night the Spouse and I went out on a midweek dinner date. These aren’t common, but our beloved sitter was available and I thought we could squeeze one in. When we got home our overtired Kindergartener was in no mood to cooperate with her bedtime routine and the older two hadn’t finished their homework. I was unforgiving and hateful. I want to be loving, but “I do that which I don’t want to do” because it’s easier in the moment to be mad than mature.
Parenting fails remind me that I’m inconsistent.
The Spouse and I grew up in large Baptist churches where we were active from birth through early adulthood. We even worked for our respective home churches for a short time. But for the past decade or so, we’ve been in a hard place with church. Several denominations and many seasons later, we have fallen into a habit of going out of duty more than desire. We’ve regularly attended and sporadically served. This spring we find ourselves in a new place where we’re committed to being part of a church plant. We’re getting to know new people and are excited and eager for this opportunity. But, I would be lying if I said we always approach Sunday mornings with the right spirit or without anxiety related to stepping outside our comfort zone. It’s easier to make Sundays more about brunch than about community.
Church reminds me that I’m selfish.
I could go on with examples of areas that highlight my not-so-holy-week habits. But, the good news is still only this: in the same way our salvation is not dependent on our efforts, the power of the resurrection is not dependent on our celebration of it.
We can mess our weeks up. We can mess our parenting up. But, none of us can mess the resurrection up. What’s done is done.
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
It’s our job to live like we believe that and to remind ourselves and each other of those truths when we forget them.
As Pope John Paul II said, “We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.”
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