I mentioned to a friend a few days ago that Easters were rough for me. He asked me why that was, and I didn’t have a solid answer. Maybe because my mom isn’t around hiding the jellybeans anymore. Perhaps the ham is too salty. I know I’m not a hippity hoppity person, but the resurrection is a mystery of hope, worth jumping up and down about. Jesus died unjustly for the unjust to adjust our standing with the Almighty if we believe Him Lord and Christ.   

Easter happened yesterday. Well, not literally, but it was celebrated. Much scripture was read of the goings on about Holy Week. At church I was reminded that it wasn’t about me, but it was, but it wasn’t. God’s plot twisted story is still unfolding, but smack dab in the middle of it Jesus shows up and gives opportunity to rescue humankind…It’s about Jesus.

Things happened to underline the significance of a death, burial, and resurrection. On Good Friday, which was only good for us, Jesus was betrayed, suffered, and ultimately rejected by his own perfect Father. The sky darkened. The earth quaked. The thick curtain separating a Holy God was torn from top to bottom.

The day between, Jesus body was entombed, and his soul was in the depths of hell. There He worked out our salvation.

And Sunday? Easter? All hope broke loose, the stone rocked and rolled away, and Jesus is risen!

I needed to hear all that again. It brought a resting joy like a heartbeat the whole day. While the oven was opened like a tomb over and over. While family poured in to share a meal. All the while I prayed each and every one to find their way home to the risen Jesus. I pray it is so. Amen.   

“I am the resurrection and the life.” Jesus