Beautiful Day

The greatest day in history
Death is beaten, you have rescued me
Sing it out, Jesus is alive!
The empty cross, the empty grave
Life eternal, you have won the day
Sing it out, Jesus is alive! He's alive!
-Tim Hughes, "Happy Day"

There's something amazingly beautiful about Easter.

There's something beautiful about corporate worship. I stood today in a beautiful new church building, oh so thankful for God's amazing blessings and oh so mindful that God is bigger and more beautiful than any building ever could be. There's something beautiful about standing in that gorgeous new building, 500 people strong, and worshiping. We were a people with backgrounds, stories, and perspectives far more vast than I could ever comprehend, and in that moment, none of it mattered. As we called to one another, "Christ is risen!", there was no discrimination in who would respond, "He is risen indeed!" There is something amazingly beautiful about a tradition that spans time and place and brings us together as one. There is something amazingly beautiful about the unity found in Christ.

There's something beautiful in an event like Easter. It's gruesome, yes. It's a painful thought, yes. The nails in His wrists and the blood from His body are not to be taken lightly. There is no Easter without death, though, and a terrible, terrible death, at that. We need to remember that God chose to work in the midst of suffering and pain, and to bring beauty from it. We need to remember, too, that this story did not end in death, nor did it even reach its climax. Jesus may have died on that Friday, but oh, my friend, is Sunday coming.

There's something beautiful about an empty tomb. There is nothing more inevitable and more final in humanity's existence than death- except, perhaps not for Jesus. There's beauty in an empty tomb, for it reminds us that Jesus himself conquers death. He conquers sin. He conquered it then, and he conquers it now. Christ can make beauty from the ashes.

There's something beautiful about the Lord's sending. I love that the first people God decided to share this unbelievable tale with were two women--people who probably wouldn't have been believed in the first place. There's something beautiful in a Savior who proclaims His truth and His story from the mouths of the oppressed-- who whispers to these women, You have a voice; go use it. You have hope and a purpose; go share it. 

 And there's something absolutely, undeniably, unbelievably amazing about grace. Easter is my favorite day of the year, because there is nothing so powerful as the realization that God chose me. There is something amazingly beautiful about the God of the universe coming down to Earth, to bear the weight of our sin and shame, and rising again so we don't have to be separated anymore. There is something beautiful about the weight that lifts from our shoulders when we realize we don't have to be "good" enough for anything, because Christ loves us and Christ died for us while we were still sinners. God doesn't wait for us to clean ourselves up. God just loves. Christ just loves. And when we rest in Him and His resurrected life, He can resurrect our hearts, too. I don't know anything more beautiful than that.

It's a beautiful day, friends. Let's use it.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Reset Button (Or: Why Camp Can't Get Rid of Me)

Image
When I was a junior in undergrad, I took an information technology course and subsequently went through a phase where I was obsessed with the British television program The IT Crowd . The show, which follows two traditional IT professionals and their accidental, completely-technologically-incompetent supervisor, is most known for the bored way all three employees would answer the phone: "Hello, IT. Have you tried turning it off and on again?" Ever since I was twelve years old, my chance to turn my soul "off and on again", my opportunity to hit my internal "reset button", so to speak, has happened at summer camp. Whether in Canada or the States; whether I was a camper, counselor, worship leader, retreat attendee, chapel speaker, office manager, or had some other hat on; whether I was thriving in my faith or crippled with overwhelming doubt, camp has always been a place where God could slow down my anxious mind and capture my heart again. Over the year
Read more

A New Home, Church, and a Bit of Camp Wisdom

I'm home. It feels different to associate that word with this place. This place holds no memories. This place holds few friends. This is not the house I grew up in. This is not the bedroom my mother and I (well, mostly mom) spent hours painting. I've never skinned my knees here; I've never spent hours playing Monopoly with my brothers here. This is not the room in which I've grieved, praised, grown and prayed. Yet it could be. It's going to be. I think the hardest part is that "home" isn't so much a place as people. That's what hurts so much; it's not that I'm 567 miles from a place, it's that I'm 567 miles away from these hearts that I cherish so much. I'm thankful, though, for the small ways I can bring these people with me. I'm thankful for the pictures that line my new bulletin board, filling my eyesight with images of those I love. I'm thankful for postcards in the mail. I'm thankful for the comforter on m
Read more

And the Church Kept Singing

Halfway through the worship set, the sound cut out. For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of the song. The slight strum from the acoustic guitar player's strings. The beat of the snare and the buzz of the trumpet, muted behind their plexiglass screens. The murmur of the lead singer's voice, barely carrying through the huge room. The sound cut out, and the worship team kept playing. And the Church kept singing. The problem was fixed before the song was over. Almost as if it was planned, the worship team naturally began to crescendo, when suddenly the sound was back. As if there had been no problem at all, the worship team kept playing. And the Church kept singing. All was well--until it wasn't. Halfway through the pastor's sermon, the sound cut out. For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of his voice.
Read more