Easter in my Heart

I was thinking about the Easter Story. You’ve heard of it, right?

Adoration. Betrayal. Death. Life.

Often we talk about living our faith. And you know? I have lived the Easter Story.

Rather recently, though not all in one week.

I had my Palm Sunday: Things are on track. This is working. It’s coming together. YAY! Break out the palm fronds! Let’s ride a burro!

Betrayal: My translation of the Judas moment, “Are you freakin’ kidding me? A few pieces of silver (or maybe it wasn’t silver) is more valuable than the relationship? Than our purpose? All we had, traded for– what exactly?”

Death: My death came in the form of judgements, abandonment, shunning and devastating grief. Grief that pierced my feet, wrists, back and most of all, heart.

Darkness. The loss changed my world. I can empathize with the followers that weekend. What was the point? Was it all a lie? What happens now? How do we go on when everything we’ve been doing these past years is now over and seemingly a lie?

Life. Restoration. Light. It’s often phrased “when Jesus came back to life”, but I think that is an important choice of words that isn’t quite right. When Jesus rose from the dead, everything changed. Because he was no longer a nice guy saying good stuff. He was the Son. His resurrection is what changes the whole deal from being a piece of ancient history with some curious stories of healing to  an abiding faith. It isn’t that what came before isn’t important, valuable. It’s to say that he did not come back to continue on as before. He rose that Sunday  a whole, new thing.

And the restoration I have been experiencing feels just as miraculous. It bears little resemblance to anything I had before. Yet it is filled with light. Everything has changed and will never be the same. And while much of that was unwanted and painful, it led to something new. It is a miracle.

It took longer than a week. But as much as I believe the Easter story to be true, I believe in my own story. I also believe this is true for all of us and, for me, is a beautiful facet of the Truth we believe in. We can read these stories, we can hear them, watch the movies and nod with the sermons. But we can also live them in a way that makes them not only true in our minds, but in our hearts.

The way the communion bread gives us a taste. An invitation to remember. Imagine.

Our lived stories offer the same invitation with the same promise in the midst of darkness:

Sunday is coming.

Sunday is coming and the Light is gonna’ shine.

Glory Hallelujah!  Glory Hallelujah!