Rediscovering the Story (Angie Gibbons - April 10, 2020)

Hey Bluewater, what’s new? Nothing? Same here. 

I’ve just been agonizing over where to hold Easter dinner this year, and who to invite.

I’m thinking this year we will take it a different direction--keep it small, just a family thing. A quaint dinner at home. Maybe an inventive new menu. Canned beans-rice-dried beans-wheat thins casserole?
 
The kids are going to be so excited to spend more quality time with mom and dad.
 
My youngest daughter asked if we were going to have an Easter egg hunt. I told her that we would. Then she asked if they would all be hunting together or if they would be broken into age groups.
 
(I only have three kids.)
 
I would have laughed, but those other two are ruthless competitors. I don’t think I would fare well in this Easter egg hunt. We need you, children of Bluewater!
 
This same daughter came into my room the other day, just before bedtime, holding a children’s book. It was the story of Easter told in watercolors, drawn figures, and simple words.
 
Her face was pinched with concern.
 
“Mom, I don’t know why, but when I read this book just now, I got all teary. I’ve read it many times before and it’s like a baby book. But I still felt like I could cry.”
 
I told her the reason tears came to her eyes is because it’s both the saddest and the most wonderful story ever told.
 
She said it didn’t make sense, because she’s heard it before.
 
I told her that no matter how many times we read it, the story of Jesus’ life and death will continue to move us, for the rest of our lives. We will continue to be humbled and awed and loved through those words.
 
There is something uniquely sobering and rich about observing this particular holiday during a worldwide pandemic, a time when death is heavy on many people’s minds.
 
For Christians, this one story, this one death comes to the forefront. An unjust and cruel crucifixion, blood spilled everywhere from a perfect man. And then a twist--a glorious resurrection, and the promise of eternal life.
 
Despite being 2,000 years old, that story became the pattern for our own lives. We were all lost to sin and death, and then were given hope for resurrection life.
 
And without glossing over the tragedy unfolding around us in the world, I can’t help but wonder what new life God wants to bring out of this season? When we’re facing an unjust, cruel disease, what stunningly beautiful things does he want to resurrect in us his people, his church?
 
Since he likes to speak to us so much, I think we should just ask him. Ask him how he wants to mold us individually in this hour. Ask him how he wants to change our families. Ask him how he wants to move his church more fully into his purposes.
 
But wait. I don’t want to get so focused on what he wants to do in the world that I miss the whole point. The easiest thing, in this time when we have nothing to do, is to think about what we’re going to be busy doing in the future.
 
Maybe, most importantly, I should ask him to restore in me the heart of a child that is not hardened by life, by pain and disappointments, by doubts, and religious exercises, but is tender to the wonder of the story all over again.
 
Let me tear up over Jesus again.

Prayer:

"Jesus, restore in me a childlike wonder over your sacrifice. When so much noise and fear is clamoring for my attention, help me to focus in on you this weekend. Amen."