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Joy is an open door

April 20, 2014

Easter.  That is this day’s official name, and that’s what I grew up calling it.  Somewhere along the way it was hinted to me that it was more correct to call it Resurrection Day or Resurrection Sunday, and people who were really serious about the true meaning of Easter would separate themselves by calling it by the more correct name.

I really don’t care to compete over who is more serious about what they believe.  Too much serious becomes a enormous joy-sucker for me.  So whatever you call it is fine by me.  And whatever you think about the fact that I still usually call it Easter is fine by me, too.

Oh, and I eat Easter candy and dye eggs.  You might as well have all the info, just in case you want to tattle to heaven about me.

FYI…they are already very acquainted with my name there.  I’m sure my file is near the top of the stack.

I didn’t go to church today.  The Far-Away Sparkette woke up still very pregnant.  I woke up with my sinuses screaming at me for exposing them to northern pollens.  The GrandSparks woke up with energy to burn.  It actually wasn’t hard to let go of the idea of church this morning, even though it’s THE high holy day for Believers and all of Christianity. It wasn’t because of the inconvenience or because I wasn’t feeling my best, but simply because my heart was very content to celebrate with the One it was celebrating, and leave it at that.

It’s funny.  When I was younger I didn’t care to be alone in the quiet.  I’d turn on the television or music just for “background noise”.  I’d look for any opportunity to go somewhere, do something, maybe find a chatty friend to hang out with—anything so I didn’t have to be alone in the quiet.

Now I love it.

When I’m alone in the quiet, it’s easier to be aware of Him and listen for Him.  I’ve become far more tuned to His presence, and I love it when He just hangs out with me.  His company is the best.

He is the best.

And today I am reminded of not just what it cost Him to love me, but how joyfully He paid that price.  He knew even as He took His final torturous breath after a hellish and horrifying ordeal that transcends human comprehension, death could not win and the grave could not contain Him.

The tomb is empty.  Jesus isn’t in it.

And neither am I.


2 Comments leave one →
  1. April 23, 2014 6:18 am

    That’s awesome!

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