April 5, 2016
“He is not here; He has risen, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay.” Matthew 28:6
As an official way to wrap up spring break, I asked my boys to condense all of their Easter candy into one bucket. They each had bags and buckets strewn all over the place. Eggs from the hunts. Goodies from school parties. Empty calories from the Bunny. Treat bags from Grammy. Candy for months. Time to collect all they had gathered and do something with it.
Seems that Easter involves a good amount of collecting things and seeing what’s inside. Opening the eggs and baskets to see the treasure inside.
While wading through the hunts and traditions, we make efforts to seek out the True Meaning. Through Scriptures. Songs. Devotionals. Sermons. Our own reflections of what the season of Easter really means. A gathering of remembrance and gratitude.
This year, I asked the Lord to show me something about Easter. To cause me to gather more than another recitation of the familiar.
And as I wanted to grieve the events of Good Friday and celebrate the resurrection on Sunday, I was sidetracked by news of bombs blowing up in an airport and politicians behaving badly and people crying out hatred against His Word. And there it was, my Easter take-away, “This world needs a Savior.”
Desperately.
And then the theme for the world, came home.
“These kids need a Savior.”
My boys’ behaviors and spunk combined with my attitude and lack of energy just made it all too glaringly apparent. Home from school, sugared up, sibling rivalry, and a sick mama cancelling plans didn’t equate peace. For several days, it seemed that the only thought about Easter that I could conjure up was “These kids need Jesus.”
Of course, as I churned their need over in my heart, my own need became glaringly obvious that I, too, need a Savior. I need Jesus. Every second.
Desperately.
And I realized that if we could wade through the attitudes and debris and remember back to that Friday, we would see Him. Our Savior.
And that if we kept going until Sunday, we could find what we were really searching for in the empty tomb.
Yes, our every longing filled by emptiness.
A lacking so frequently leaves us with an unquenchable thirst. Empty seems negative. So often it is.
We’ve all been there at some point.
Empty bank account.
Empty feelings.
Empty nest.
Empty womb.
Empty arms.
All of those things leave us longing. Longing to be filled.
Yet the emptiness of the tomb leaves us full.
Because in this emptiness we find a living Savior. Redemption. Restoration. Victory. Hope. Fulfilment of life.
As the time comes to put away the bunnies and eggs and consume the remaining chocolate, be reminded. You have a Savior. I have a Savior. And I have a renewed longing to empty myself so that my life can be filled with only Him. Because the emptiness of the tomb completes us.
“So come and empty me
So that it’s You I breathe.
I want my life to be
Only Christ in me.”
Jeremy Camp/”Christ in Me”