When I think about Easter I think about pastel colors, sunrises, easter eggs, colored eggs, hidden surprises, new dresses, family meals…and, yes, a little about His resurrection and amazing grace.
I’d be lying if I said that He filled my head most of the day…or days planning for an Easter filled house.
Holidays, even holidays about Jesus, have a way of taking over; the secular, the party, the gathering, the traditions – while all good things, have taken over talking about Jesus. Have taken over making time to truly consider the magnitude of what was done.
“There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him.
He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down…”
This ugly, this truth, this is Easter. This is grace.
My prayer is simple this Easter day:
Remember the sorrow,
Remember the injustice,
Remember how much He loves me,
Remember “it was the good Lord’s plan to crush Him and cause Him grief” Iasiah 53:10
Because He loves me.
Who am I to forget in the pastel festivities that His saving grace was written in crimson. Was written in a storm. And He died for my storms…the big and the small ones, the mundane and the life changing, He died to save me and be with me.
And yes, He was raised- and saved and saves- but he was human when he died. Carrying all the weight of my sorrow sin, my life, on his torn flesh.
So this year amidst the praise and the happiness, amidst the pastel joys, and amidst the mass chaos and my internal crimsons I will take moments – I will make moments- to not forget that He first carried my sorrows and He still carries me.
I am loved and I am blessed.