Our Easter hope

Yesterday in the car I was talking to the Preschooler about the Easter story. {I feel like this is important because last year she added something about Jesus getting married when she shared her version of things. I believe we call that heresy…} So, I was just checking in to see where she is with her understanding this year. I would tell her part of the story and say, “Then what happened?” She knows the sequence of events and can pretty much retell the story herself. But, when we got to the part where Jesus was raised from the dead, left the tomb, and rejoined His followers to show them He was alive again, she got a look of uncertainty on her face and said with a tilt of her head, “Did that really happen?”

It doesn’t matter whether we’re 5 years old or 105 years old, it’s just hard to believe. But everything depends on how we answer that question. And, as Easter people our resounding answer has to be, “Yes. Yes it did.”

Six years ago I wrote a post about Good Friday. When I look back at it now it feels like so much has changed in our life, yet so little has changed in my spirit. Sometimes we can look back at where we were and be disappointed that we haven’t overcome more of our own weaknesses. But, the great beauty of Easter is that even though we can’t get it right, He did and He does. 

I wish I could say that I have treated this week as the Holy Week that it is. But, that would be far from true.

Instead, I’ve been as impatient and short-tempered as usual.

I’ve been preoccupied when I should have been present.
I’ve said hateful words when I could have offered hopeful words.
I’ve been bitter when I could have been better.
I’ve chosen fear instead of faith.
Apathy instead of appreciation.
Worry instead of worship.

I’ve been far more suburban than spiritual this week. I’ve devoted more time to social media than Scripture. I’ve spent more energy getting dresses and sandals together than prepping my mind and spirit for the real significance of this week.

I’ve been typically unholy.

And, yet, that’s the very thing that makes this week so significant…

I can fall short of every expectation I set for myself and yet fall back on the strangely reassuring knowledge that my best efforts would never have been enough anyway. Even if I had been perfectly patient and kind, said all the right things and done all the right deeds, even if I had been a model spouse and a wise parent at every turn… still, I would be lacking. I’d still need a Savior.

My best week, my very best Friday, would still need a Good Friday.

My only shot at holiness comes through Christ’s offer that I clothe myself with His. And, that was made possible at the cross.

We can celebrate Good Friday because we serve a great God, who made a great ~ a perfect ~ sacrifice on our behalf. All so we could know grace and peace and life and hope.  So we could know love.  So we could know Him.

So again this year I am thankful for Easter weekend, and for what the reality of a Good Friday and a Resurrection Sunday mean for every other day of our year. I’ll never get it all right. I just have to believe that He did and that His doing so is enough for me. And for you.

Because He lives.

The story is crazy, but the story is real.

Blessings on your Easter weekend ~