Easter is not my favorite holiday. It makes me uncomfortable.
There, I’ve said it.
For those who know me and that I do love Jesus, that statement may come as a surprise. It’s not the sort of thing that someone with my background is supposed to say. But it’s the truth, though I’ve just recently come to realize and admit it to myself and God.
Why the vague unease with this holiday? It’s not like I don’t love other major church holidays. Like Christmas, for example. Advent is much more palatable than Lent (I still can’t figure out fasting and how to work that in to everyday life) and Christmas Jesus is much easier to dwell on than Holy Week Jesus. Baby-in-a-manger Jesus is full of promises fulfilled, hope for the future, sweet innocence unbroken. He is meek and mild, the humble Creator-Babe who quietly enters the world in the flesh of His created humanity. The sinister cross lies silently far ahead in the shadows, with just a shiver of a dark prophecy hanging over the bright joy of a centuries-long promise fulfilled.
But Holy Week Jesus brings the sword that pierces the soul.
The Jesus of Holy Week rides into Jerusalem victoriously, accepting praise shouted by crowds. He enters the temple with angry authority and throws out the ones desecrating what His Father had decreed to be holy. He challenges the Pharisees and outwits their sliest moves. This is not a baby lying helpless in a manger that everyone can agree is a touching portrait of Divine Love. This is a conquering King setting out to build His kingdom, and we are all either for it or against it. Like it or not, there is no neutrality here. Holy Week Jesus is Master Jesus, who enters with authority and faces the worst of our sin.
Easter, the events of Holy Week, like the very Gospels themselves, make me uncomfortable. The garden betrayal, the courtyard denial, the Roman whipping, the crucifixion, the mocking, the bleeding, the Father forsaking, the darkness, the utter suffering… the stark reality of it all discomfits me.
Why? The answer is not that hard to uncover after all. Easter makes me uncomfortable because it is brutal proof that my sin did indeed need to be dealt with in such a serious and radical way.
The stories recorded in these pages force me to admit that I indeed am a sinner and must own up to my identity as one of the people who nailed Jesus to that cross. I must own my responsibility for putting Him there if I would partake in the freedom and joy of receiving the resurrection life for myself. I must admit that I was an orphan before I could be adopted; that I was lost before I could be found; that I was a rebel who needed to lay down my arms before I could be welcomed into the arms of a loving Father. In order to rise up in joyful celebration I must first have bowed my knees and surrendered my rebellion to the Lord of Lords.
To truly celebrate Easter I must come face-to-face with all of this. I cannot hide behind my good self-opinions when I read the Gospels.
But if I am willing to drop the burden of buoying my ego, I can come to Easter and find sweet relief. Because it is only in Easter that I can face the brutal truth about myself and still find hope. It is only in the marvelous work of our mediating Messiah that the dichotomy of the depths of my sin and the depths of God’s love are reconciled, each dealt with appropriately so that the debt is paid, justice is served, and mercy is satisfied.
Jesus paid it all – yes, all to Him I owe.
Easter is honest, hard, and yes, I will say it again – brutal. But it is also beautiful. Victorious. Hopeful. The hard, unrelenting truth that we can stare in the face is that Jesus faced death for our sin and rose again. He defeated it. We can face death without fear because Master Jesus, Holy Week Jesus, came to earth as that divinely humble Baby Jesus and grew up and fulfilled His mission. Easter gives Christmas and every other day on this planet its value. Because He lives we can face tomorrow – and eternity – with lightness in our hearts and joy on our faces.
If we are willing to stare these uncomfortable truths in the face and accept the reality of them, we will find the greatest comfort our souls can know – the relief and victory of the Risen Savior.
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