Anyone who knows me at any level beyond the surface is pretty aware of the fact that my life group is one of the best things in my life. I’ve done some things in my 29 years. This life group feels like the most important thing I’ve done. I’ve had the privilege of leading these women who have become my best friends for nearly 3 ½ years in “doing life together.”
Normally we spend the entire time catching up on each other’s lives, sparing no detail. Tonight I decided that instead of our normal routine we should read the Gospel story about Jesus in Gethsemane, the crucifixion, and his burial and then take communion together. I then wanted the ladies to each share where they see themselves in this story, in reference to Gethsemane or the cross. The realization that I came to for my own life while they were sharing feels important to me, so I’m writing it down tonight so that I don’t forget.
I feel murky. I’m frustrated about feeling murky. I had really high hopes for Lent this year. I’m big on Lent. I dig the idea of doing something to prepare your heart for Easter. For most of my life, the significant points for Easter for me were the new dress and shoes, and the doubling of the congregation for the weekend. Easter is like the Super Bowl for pastors. So in my 20’s, I’ve really liked discovering new ways to bring meaning to this day of days. Isn’t the resurrection what this whole thing hinges on?
Here’s what I expected this year: I was going to do such a good job of detoxing my life and quieting the “noise” that distracts me constantly, my life would become so clear by Easter that I could experience the big day in HD. I could wash the windows of my life so that when that sun rises on Easter morning, I would be able to see it better than ever.
As this season has flown by and Good Friday comes closer, I’ve been so disappointed with myself. I stayed off Facebook, which was the original fast. But I wanted to get up every morning for devotions, which ended up happening about twice a week. I wanted to go to church every weekend, which happened about twice a month.
Why are things still murky? Why can’t I ever get my spiritual sunglasses clean? Don’t I want to get the most out of Resurrection Sunday? Don’t I care what Christ did for me? For goodness sake, why do I suck so much at Lent?
Here is what dawned on me this evening with my friends as we unanimously shared our inability to really do a good enough job preparing for Easter – The miracle is not in Lent. The miracle is in Easter. I was frustrated because I could not get my life clean enough for Easter. But Easter is what does the cleaning. All my fasting or not fasting in the world does nothing to change what Christ did and does.
Regardless of where I am in the story, at the cross offering Jesus a drink, mocking with the crowds, or to quote my friend from tonight, 4 towns down and not caring about the event at all – none of this changes the healing, redeeming, awaking, and resurrecting power of the cross. Whether I check the weather channel or not, whether I put on sunscreen or not, the sun will rise.
Easter may feel really powerful and I might bask in the incredible shocker that Christ rose from the dead. Or maybe I’ll drag myself out of bed and go to church with Joey at 6am for a sunrise service and then travel the family circuit eating along the way, and then play some games, and go to bed, and then guiltily at the end of the day think about how I didn’t really think about what all of this means. Both are fine because Christ requires neither for this event.
Nothing I can do will make the resurrection cooler or less cool. I can’t wake up the dead places in my heart so that I will be prepared for God to wake up the dead places of my heart. This is God’s work. While I believe in partnering with him, and creating quiet spaces so that I can be aware of what he is up to in my life, I am newly aware of the fact that what we celebrate this weekend is everything. The cross and resurrection do the cleaning, quieting, waking, and renewing of this life.
To the women in my life group I raise a glass of 2 buck chuck communion wine and say “Ready or not, He is risen.”
