Sunday I felt the relief of Easter wash over me like a long-awaited rain. This day has grown more significant and special to me in recent years. Growing up, I knew it was important, but I never quite realized how essential the resurrection is until my twenties. Up until then, it always seemed like I was on the verge of discovering something great, but never quite able to break through to experience that aha! moment that I craved. Then, through reading and reflection (There's a reason this blog is called Reflective Journey. There's tremendous value in reflecting on stuff. I digress...) and conversations with my dear community, over time I began to grasp the significance of the fact that Jesus rose from the dead.
The Saturday before Easter, that day of silence in the Church calendar, I allowed myself to imagine what it must have been like to be Jesus' disciples after he was laid away in a cold tomb. I tried to imagine the feelings of loss, confusion, and disappointment that they must have felt. We really thought this was it. We thought the Kingdom was here. We trusted you, Jesus. I allowed myself to "go there" for a brief moment and to think, what if Jesus hadn't come back from the dead? If you allow your mind to go there, it really is a dark thought. It's worse than the feeling of emptiness I had as a child after a sleepover, when all my friends had left, when I would look around at the mess my mom was sure to make me clean and wonder what now?
What now? they must have thought. How do you carry on when you had been this close to victory, to a meaning and purpose so much bigger than catching fish every day? How do you carry on when the one you had staked everything on and left everything for turns out to be someone who seems much more like a scoundrel than a Savior?
Of course, that's not a good place to stay for long, because we do know the rest of the story. But thinking about what might not be, or might not have been, usually helps us appreciate what is, and had I not reflected upon the significance of Friday and Saturday, Sunday would not have felt near as sweet. I really felt like I was bursting at the seems as I sang, "...Then bursting forth in glorious day, up from the grave He rose again," and "Christ has died, and Christ is risen, Christ will come again." I knew how desperately I need a Risen Lord and I celebrated. That was Sunday.
Today is Wednesday. I still know how desperately I need a Risen Lord, but already some of the shine of Sunday is wearing off. Yesterday I had a complimentary "spa day" at work and I realized that no matter how peaceful your surroundings are, you can still have a hard time relaxing and being at peace. Wherever you go, there you are, right? Then, I came home and was faced with the sad situation of a troubled neighbor boy whose mom had told him to leave the house because he was suspended from school. There is a daytime curfew and he had nowhere to go, so asked if he could "just chill' at our house for a little while. He's only fifteen. His dad is dead and his mom routinely tells him to leave the house, apparently whenever she just doesn't feel like having him around. No amount of comfort can really insulate us from the pain of the world around us (nor should it, really). And then there's the selfishness of my own heart and how good I can be at keeping track of the wrongs of others, but want them to have a terrible memory when it comes to mine.
It's quite astounding the spectrum of emotions that can be experienced between Sunday and Wednesday...even between Sunday morning and Sunday night. Sometimes Monday hits hard, and by Tuesday you're slumping, and by Wednesday you're ready for a do-over. And today I'm reminded that I need the reality of Easter to permeate every day. Not that I need to live in a constant state of emotional high, but that I need to live in a constant state of hope. Peter said it like this:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!
According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again
to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from
the dead...
(1 Peter 1:3 emphasis mine)
Did you catch that? Our hope comes as direct result of the resurrection. And it's a living hope, because it's based upon the Living Lord. Celebrations are important, and ideally, life should be lived with a sense of celebration because of our hope. But when the sense of celebration eludes us, when Monday hits hard, when life is just hard, there is still hope because of the fact that Jesus is alive, and his resurrection validates everything He ever said. That means that when He said, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age," He really meant it. That means that when he said He won't leave us as orphans, but that he'll send us the Holy Spirit as a helper, he really did. That means when he said He was going away, but he's going to come back again, He really will. That means that just as God had a plan in the in-between time of Friday and Sunday, He has a plan in the in-between of Jesus' resurrection and ascension and the time that He will return. In a sense, this time is our Saturday, but unlike the disciples then, we know that resurrection has come and is coming. Hope is in the air. Jesus is alive and He's coming back. So, while we groan in these tents (2 Cor 5:2), and while the whole creation groans (Romans 8:22-23), let us not forget that we have a living hope, a hope that carries us through every day of the week.
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