Saturday, March 30, 2013

Before Easter.

Easter swallows me up.  
I have already cried more this weekend than I ever would any other time and we aren't even to Easter morning yet.  
I just can't comprehend.  I can't fully grasp it.  And yet it is so.
Our God Rose.

This holiday is hard.  
As Americans we do Easter such an unpleasant, almost mocking injustice.  
Yes, I too dress my kids up more fancy than usual and partake in all of the Easter activities such as egg hunting, face painting, candy and the bunny.  That's our tradition and that is ok.
But in it all, my kids know.  
And each year they know a little more about the truth of this day, this celebration and what it means.

Yesterday they watched Jesus be crucified in an online children's version of the event.  
I sobbed the entire way through the cartoon that was truly graphic.  I watched their faces as they watched His and I saw that they understood.  We talked about it throughout the day and each time as the frog in my throat escaped into wails and tears I know that they were reminded.  Nora told Braden at one point, "It's fine, bubby.  Mommy's crying because she has joy not because it makes her sad."

My little girl.
She is so right.  So true.
I do have JOY. 

The knowing that redemption was gifted to me after a blood sacrifice of my Savior?  
The knowing that eternity is my home and that worship will be true and untainted there?
The knowing that forgiveness and mercy really do matter.
The knowing that even before Jesus died, His love was constant?  Unchanging?  Endless?

I watched their innocence throughout the entire day yesterday and reminded myself how thankful I am to be here with them each moment.  These life lessons that I get to teach them about Jesus; about  their salvation, their spirits-these are the things that matter.  
The heart lessons that don't get taught anywhere else and that no one else will pay close attention to, I am teaching.  

Even though there is a sense of utter corruptness surrounding the typical Easter scene, I am always going to let me children hunt for eggs, wear their very best and see the Easter bunny.  
But I am also never going to let them forget that this is a season of seriousness.  A time of reflection that is deeper than we can truly fathom and more vulgar, more traumatic, more raw than we can stomach.

Our God became flesh and bore our sin and death upon Himself.
He did that. 
 And then He overcame that death to give us what we will never deserve...freely.
He quite literally paid the price of our eternity; our forever.
His blood secures the way and my children will always be aware.

And although it's quite blubbery, I pray that they will always feel that urge to cry through this entire celebration as well.  I pray that they wake with the eery reminder of a tortured man, an impossible cross and a hollow grave every single day surrounding these few that our culture chooses to embrace as Easter.  
I pray that they will allow themselves to quiet, to still, to remove distractions and fully emerge into the reminiscing of our Jesus and His perfect submission to God.  

Today is beautiful.  
The sun is shining, the house is quiet.
And the season of new is upon us.  
I'm drinking it in and feeling so very thankful for my one steady truth:

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