Lent is half over, and I can see the plastic Easter eggs from here, but they are being swept down the way by torrential showers. It tests you when you want to celebrate and the outside world washes in like a tsunami.
Easter is about the Christ fulfilling the payment for the wages of our sin. He suffered for us and was punished for us. His followers could not accept that He had risen because they had seen Him die in a very nasty way. Jesus did not survive the Roman crucifixion. He willingly laid down His life and then He rose from the dead.
I don't have a really important Easter experience from my childhood, although my parents tried to make the Easter event memorable. But now I face a testing of that Easter faith: my mother, a lifelong believer and disciple, is about to complete her Easter journey to heaven. Her Alzheimer's and cancer almost cancel each other out as far as her fear of death and the unknown. For her, it is every day with Jesus, every day in that Easter faith that accepts what comes in life as life ebbs away.
At this time, she is yet among us, the living. Soon and very soon, she will be with all those whose race is run and course is done. Her simple songs she taught us come out and we remember her smiling face on Easter as each of us children successfully retrieved all the eggs, reminding us that Jesus is not in the grave, like the chocolate is not in the plastic egg. He is risen. And because He is risen, we too will rise to eternal life in Jesus who is our life, who has taken our sins away. Faith holds tight to the Lord Jesus, who holds us tighter. That is not swept away.
He is risen; He is risen indeed.