When I was in elementary school, one of my favorite things to do over spring break was to spend the night with my grandparents who lived in a nearby town. Most every time we did so, they would take us to their small town mall—notably the home of KB Toys and Showbiz Pizza. I’m not sure my 10-year-old self could dream up a better evening than one involving pizza, skee ball, and a toy store with MeMe and Papaw.
Last week on a rainy afternoon I had some time to kill during my youngest one’s volleyball practice, and I drove over to that same mall from my childhood. What was once a vibrant shopping center is now like so many other malls of its era. TJ Maxx and Belk have moved in as anchor stores, but all of the original tenants have long since gone out of business or moved out. Many of the storefronts sit empty, and only a handful of people are wandering around.
Something about that quiet and lifeless mall makes me feel a bit of sadness and nostalgia. I think about my grandparents who both later suffered with dementia and passed away not recognizing themselves or the faces of the family who loved them. I think about my dad and how we lost him years before he could enjoy taking his own grandchildren to a food court or a toy store. I think about how quickly my three girls are growing up and how much has changed since I was pushing them through our local mall in strollers.
The powerful thing about Holy Week is it speaks to our feelings of profound sadness over people and places and dreams that have died. And ALSO, it whispers to those feelings of more subtle sadness over things that have changed or are changing or aren’t quite as we wish they were—those feelings of emptiness and longing and disappointment and angst that keep us hoping there is something better around the corner.
Ultimately, Christ’s work of reconciliation and redemption addresses ALL of our deepest longings and downcast emotions by reminding us the best is yet to come for those of us who believe.
If the resurrection truly happened, then, as J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sam Gamgee says in The Lord of the Rings, “One day everything sad will come untrue.” I’m not sure our minds and hearts can even wholly comprehend the depth of that promise.
Whatever is empty will be full again.
Whatever is broken will be made whole again.
Whatever is lost will be found again.
Whatever is dead will come alive again.
No more nostalgia or longing. No more dementia or death. No more pain or sadness.
Only goodness and glory forever.
Every part of our here and now lives point to our need for a Savior. As Anne Lamott writes, “Christians are Easter people living in a Good Friday world.” Maybe that’s why something as uneventful as walking through an old mall and stirring up some nearly-forgotten memories can make us long for the story to be true.
This weekend, we remind ourselves that it is.
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
And all shall be well. Hallelujah.
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