All my life, Easter has been a purely magical day. Not because I believed in the Easter bunny and all that fantasy junk, but because of everything the day is. I've always loved the preparation that goes into make this day so different from every other Sunday. The new Easter dress-complete with matching gloves, hat, and purse-getting to eat candy all day long, a big dinner, the generally joyful atmosphere. In fact, my feelings very much echo a book from my childhood, The Best Thing About Easter. In the book a little girl talks about all the things she loves about easter-decorating eggs, easter egg hunts, eating candy, bunnies and duckies, and getting all dressed up, but after describing each of these, makes the statement "but that's not the very best thing about easter..." until she gets to Jesus. When she talks about the crucifixion and resurrection, she comes to this conclusion: "I'm glad Jesus loves me! I'm really, really glad, aren't you?"
I am glad! So very glad! To me, the best part of waking up Easter morning has nothing to do with the Easter baskets my Mom continues to make (which, of course, I love!). It's this great, joyful feeling that bubbles out-Jesus is ALIVE! He's risen from the dead! Hallelujah! I know that Jesus wasn't really dead at all during the time I've lived. But for some reason, Good Friday always leaves me feeling a little like He has. And I think that's okay. I rejoice that I can read the accounts of the crucifixion and cry, that my heart can still-after hearing this for 19 years-be moved by the things my Savior endured. But I don't read it with a completely broken heart because I know that Jesus gladly went to the Cross, that I may have life and have it to the full! I am ashamed that He had to, but I am so very glad He did! What a wonderful Savior!
Easter has ALWAYS been my favorite holiday, and like I earlier wrote, I hope to never "outgrow" it. I think that it's okay to still get so excited for it, to still yearn for Easter morning, because although it may be childish, that's the faith we're called to. I think that the most beautiful thing I can ever aspire to be is a child of God. That's not to say that we stop growing and seeking maturity, but there's something admirable in a child-like faith, something astounding in a faith that can defend itself yet maintains the joy and intimacy and confidence of a Father/child relationship. The more I study prayer, the more convinced I am that it is the relationship God yearns for with us.
I digress. The point is, in my eyes, Easter beats out Christmas. Because if Jesus hadn't gone to the Cross and endured the death He did, our sins could not have been atoned for. And if He hadn't risen again, it'd still be meaningless. If Jesus didn't do the work He came for-if he didn't drink the cup that the Father placed in front of Him- even Christmas would lose its meaning. What would we celebrate? I mean, I guess we could possibly still celebrate something, but it would be far, far different. And the only Christmas worth celebrating is the one that finds its greatest meaning in Easter-in the death and resurrection of the Savior.
So thank God my Redeemer LIVES!
