It is Easter. Christ is Risen. Everything should change. Right? The Lord, the giver of life is raised from the dead. All things are possible and nothing is beyond God. I want to live as though I believe that to be true. I want to live as though Easter really matters. But I am so distracted by my aches and worries and longings and disappointments and ambitions that I can’t clear enough space to figure out what such living looks like. Yesterday one my dear girlfriends asked me a question I cannot shake. “What did you, or will you bury this season in hopes of new life?”
I know the answer. I am sitting quietly with my response, with open, soiled hands and dirt beneath my fingernails. No vigils though it is still so tempting. But who keeps vigil at an empty tomb?
He is Risen. Now to try and live as though I truly believe it. That strangely seems the harder task.