Intro: I found this draft from the week following Easter sitting here still waiting to be finished. And since I’m in a season of searching for the full purport of Easter I think I shall pick up where I left off.
It was Easter Sunday and I was still in the throes of the black death of Friday. Because sometimes life seems to suck us into the vortex of visions of freedom hanging on the cross and we forget to revel in the sunrise of Easter morning. When all we believe in seems like it’s meeting a devastating end; we lock ourselves in a room just like the disciples did. And we tremble with fear of the unknown, fear of the repercussions of believing, of following our hearts. Just like the disciples, we forget the many promises that God has a plan, God has triumphed over sin and over death.
I was sitting in church Sunday morning, searching in myself to find the joy of Easter. Had I lost it because of life’s circumstances or had I lost it because I didn’t have a grasp on what it means to me? Is it possible to get so burnt out on life that we forget where we would be, who we would be without the risen Jesus of Easter? As I sat there my mind was interrogating my soul and asking me what the Cross is and what it means to me but much more so, what does Easter morning mean to me? The pastor said something that really stuck out to me and I’m still mulling it over. He said that the Cross is the intersection of God’s will versus Jesus’ will.
This led me to question what my cross is. Jesus said that his followers were to pick up their cross and bear it daily. Where/how does my will intersect with God’s? Am I ready for it to be as painful and as humiliating as Jesus’ cross was for him?
I’m guessing that those three days felt like an eternity to the disciples hunkering down in a house mourning the loss of their beloved Teacher and Leader. Dare they hope that his puzzling words about three days and he would rise again were more than just strange Jesus-isms for which he had become famous? What would it mean for them if he didn’t? Could they integrate themselves into their former lives without too much ridicule? Could they live their fanaticism down if it all was futile? If they were anything like me, they probably hashed and re-hashed every thing that everyone could remember from the last 3 years. And I’m willing to bet that there was some finger pointing and heated accusations going on as well.
When my will intersects with God’s, am I willing to surrender to His plan no matter how outrageous it seems? Am I willing to be shamed by the public? Am I willing to stick it out even when it feels like God’s turned his face away from me? Will I believe in the hope of Easter morning? Will I trust him that after the darkness, grief, and abandonment, the Risen Savior will meet me on my journey and “cause my heart to burn within me”?