Easter Exodus

I wish you could have seen the sweet joy on my 4th graders’ faces when I told them Easter was still going on in the church calendar. Their faces just lit up. After I told them this surprising piece of news, I read to them the story in the Bible where Jesus appears to the two men walking on the road to Emmaus, and I said “I want you to imagine that one of these two men has his child with him, and that you are that child-- how do you feel when Jesus is speaking? What does he look like? Describe the moment when he vanishes from your sight at the end of the story.” And I had them retell the story from their own perspective. Here are some of their words: “I felt happy when the stranger walked up, but I didn’t know why, so I kept it to myself.” This child said that Jesus spoke with a “cool, crisp voice.” One little girl said that “Jesus overflowed my body with joy and I just felt very happy!” Another little boy was convinced that when Jesus broke bread with them, he broke it into thirds.

My impulse, the way the world has taught me, is to say with nostalgia for something lost: “Oh, to be a child again!” But we adults still have imaginations if we choose to use them…

If I were one of those men walking to Emmaus, I imagine that I would feel, deep within me, that I had known this man all of my life. And I think that as he approached us, maybe the shadows of the trees and plants around us would grow crisper as the sun grew a little brighter. And as he explained the scriptures to us, I think that I would feel as I sometimes do when I encounter truth-- feel as though I need to write down every last word so that I won’t ever be in danger of forgetting or losing it-- but in a much more intense way, I think I would feel as though the very secret of the whole world was being imparted to me, and I would feel in a moment that there was no danger of my forgetting it. And what would I do when he vanishes from our sight after breaking bread? Well, I imagine I would go running through the house, searching each room, calling the name of the one I only just recognized moments ago as the Messiah…

If I’m being honest, that describes a little bit of what I feel at the end of this Easter week-- running through the rooms of myself, looking for the Savior I know was shining in his glory only just moments ago. The unmistakable empty tomb was at the forefront of my mind and heart just last weekend, but work and the world have a numbing effect, and tonight I hear my bewildered, searching calls for him, falling in an empty room.

What if, when I allow work and the sorrows of the world to numb me, I’m sealing my tomb? Maybe that’s why, at the end of this week, I look inside of myself and find nothing but an empty room. We need Sundays. There’s something that happens in singing hymns, and praying together, in hearing God’s words, and being part of His body-- something that opens me up every time. Every Sunday, the little tomb that the world tried so hard to seal me into that week, is burst open. And I know that I am alive, and I know who I am again.

I am not made to be shut up in the stone of this world’s echo chamber, or in the echo chamber of my own thoughts-- I am made to rest in his green pastures and then to work in his strength, all with the stretching skies of his kingdom above me, continually in view. I don’t want to forget about him this week, the One who changed my life. In all the spaces of my days, I want to talk to him, and think on his words. I am so tired of tombs. I want to live the Easter reality Christ made possible for us…

This may seem small, but in all of those moments when we have 15 minutes to spare, when normally we would pick up our phones-- instead of walking into the echo-chamber of that tomb-- what if we tried to memorize scripture? Or poetry? Or something beautiful? What if we set our minds on things above instead? If I did this, I don’t think I would let go of Jesus’ hand so easily, and when I feel his arms around me each Sunday, I think I would feel that I was near him only just yesterday.

I want to see what God will do with this in my life--do you want to join me? Every week in the month of May, I’m going to send out an email with the scripture verse I’m trying to memorize that week, as well as a quick prayer. I’m going to write the verse on a sticky note for my mirror, and work on memorizing it in any spare moments I may have that week. Just think about all of the ways this could change our spare-time, and our days in general, for the better! I want Easter to change my life-- I don't want to go back to the way I lived before-- and this is one small way to make room for Christ in our days. I’m so excited for this, and I hope you’ll join me! I’m calling it the “Easter exodus”-- so, how about it? Let’s leave these tombs.

Click this link to join me! https://forms.wix.com/24997175-a89c-4ecd-9298-f0c2a1b42f76:447c480f-6ea2-4f86-992c-f0d248c4aab2