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We are (still) Easter People

Easter felt dim this year. As I anticipated Holy Week and thinking about Jesus' life, death and resurrection and wanting to feel something more, it felt dim. The concept of death and life is close. I'm keenly aware of how our bodies are shells, a house for our soul and spirit.

I had my first miscarriage on Maundy Thursday eight years ago, though I was just learning more about the liturigical calendar at the time. I spent the weekend in bed, recovering, being cared for by others. Easter felt dim. As time went on, I saw the poignancy in that death. That is a reminder that this earth is not our final home.



This year is my first Easter without my Dad. He is rejoicing with Jesus. He knows the resurrected Jesus. But I am still here. He is more alive than ever.

This earth is the Shadowlands. We are marked by the brokenness. There's death here. We are bereft.



But that's also the point of Easter. Death doesn't get the final word. We grieve but we grieve with those who have hope. Jesus' death and resurrection triumphed over death, the final enemy has been destroyed.


I appreciate the concept of being Easter people, of joyously living in the truth of Jesus' life being given for us. Some years the joy comes easy, some years the joy is a fight. Alleluia feels like an anthem, a choice.

This year we gathered with other Christians and sang Because He Lives in Portuguese and English. I cried. Because though I feel the sting of death, I do have tremendous hope.



"We are an Easter people and Alleluia is (still) our hymn of praise."







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