Why I Celebrate Easter
I have been celebrating Easter since I was a little girl. Clad in pastel-colored dresses with white tights and matching hats and shoes, I went to early morning services, wrapped in blankets, sitting quietly (ish) while my parents and our church sang songs and the pastor spoke. I may not have understood (or paid attention to) everything that was said. But I understood things on a simple and sincere level. Jesus had died for me and had risen from the dead, so we celebrated. There is beauty in that simple understanding, as Jesus told his disciples, “I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:17).
As I got older, I became far more picky about the dresses and ditched the tights and hats, but my God was still the same, and we continued celebrating every Easter. The basis of the celebration never changed, but my understanding of the cost grew. I began to see the humiliation Jesus experienced, understood the pain he suffered, and felt the weight of what it meant that he gave Himself up for me. As a young adult, I was struck by the injustice of it all, shocked by a crowd that would follow Jesus, expecting miracles, and then turn on him. And more than that, I found myself in awe of a God who would choose silence and submission (not things I excelled at as a teen/young adult). One word from him, one flex of his power, and everything would have changed, but not in the way that we needed. And so he chose the cross.
As a mom, I continue to celebrate Easter with my family, bringing along the tradition of pastel-colored dresses and button-up shirts. I ask my sons to survive a few hours in pants with buttons, though I’ve still ditched the tights for my girls. At this age, and particularly as a parent, my understanding has continued to grow, grasping not just what it cost Jesus but what it cost God the Father to offer up his only son.
Becoming a mother changes your perspective on almost everything. Becoming a mother to a child with a life-limiting condition will absolutely rock it. When Wonder Woman was a baby, I wrestled repeatedly with what God had asked of us. Living through that first year—expecting that she would die at any point—was brutal. It was a constant mental battle, fearing what was to come, grieving the life I imagined with my daughter, anticipating the grief that we would experience, and knowing that every day was hard and would only get harder. During this season, I cried out to God in fear and anger. I asked questions and hurled accusations. Why me? Why is this so hard? Why is it like this? Don’t you know what you are asking of me? You’re asking me to bury my daughter! It’s not fair.
God so graciously, lovingly, and gently answered me. He clearly pointed to Easter, to the cross, to his beloved son, who died for me. Of course, God knew what he was asking me to face; it is a pain he’s already experienced, a price paid for me. Is it fair? No. But as one of my favorite songs says, “The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.” (Be My Escape, Relient K)
God does not take the pain of grieving mothers and fathers lightly. He does not look at this broken world where children die and shrug his shoulders, saying That’s just how life is. Instead, he walks with us through that valley of the shadow of death (Ps 23:4). He meets us in our grief, knowing the pain intimately (Is 53:4). And all of this is made possible by the sacrifice of Jesus. God’s pain at the death of his Son bought redemption for me. I can go directly to God with my hurt because now nothing separates us.
And so, this Easter, I celebrate. Still with questions and hurt and grief to come. But I do so with an unshakeable, soul-deep knowledge that God is good. He is strong enough to shoulder my pain. He is kind and compassionate enough to care about my hurt. He loves me beyond comprehension.
And that power that Jesus held back on the cross, when he submitted to the will of the Father, he unleashed it as he was raised from the dead, and he changed everything. Bringing a living hope and joy that are not centered on my circumstances but on my God.
That’s a happy Easter.
“Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2
