The Year Easter Became About Jesus

The year 2020 entered with a bang. Not only were New Year Resolutions flying around, but it was also the start of a new DECADE! People were ready to reset, make some changes, and make this year — even this decade — the best ever.

Then, a global pandemic…

I don’t have to go into detail about how the four words above this paragraph not only changed many of our lives, but they changed the world. None of us expected to live through something in 2020 that will be in every history book from this moment. Our kids and grandkids will be tested in history class one day on their knowledge of the events that are unfolding before us today. Everyone’s routine has been interrupted, many people have lost their jobs, and some have even lost their lives. This is and will continue to be one of the most trying times in many of our lives.

Last weekend was Easter weekend, a time celebrated by many around the world, and also a time for Christians of all ages and denominations to be united in the celebration of the resurrection of the Savior of the world, Jesus Christ. This holiday carries with it family traditions; some that have been uninterrupted for decades. Uninterrupted until now. For people who work in a church like myself, Easter weekend is one of the biggest and busiest weekends of the year. Rivaled only by Christmas, we gear up at church knowing that many will be hearing a message that they only hear once or twice a year. On the other side of that coin, many families that are not regular attenders of a local church will still — even if only for the sake of tradition — attend an Easter service. None of that was allowed to happen this past weekend. It was strange not getting up and stressfully dressing my two young children in their special Easter outfits. We didn’t struggle to get into a car to make it on time for a church service. We didn’t have a giant family lunch. We didn’t go to an Easter egg hunt. We didn’t go out to eat. Nothing. This Easter, all familiar, albeit distracting, traditions were forcibly set aside, leaving nothing but Jesus. We couldn’t count on the presentation of flashy lights coupled with a great band at a church service. We couldn’t count on a convicting message from a gifted speaker. It was up to us in our individual homes. And we were set up perfectly to bring the focus back to Jesus.

The only thing remaining was the story of Jesus. The story of God taking on the form of a man. In the Bible, we are encouraged to imitate Jesus and what He did to give us the story of Easter. In Philippians 2, it says that we should have a mind like the one that Jesus had. He was (and still is) God, but He didn’t think of Himself more highly than anyone else. In fact, He did the opposite. Jesus didn’t desire to be famous, and He didn’t come here looking to be served. Rather, He came to serve man. He had the attitude of a servant. And being found in appearance as a man, though being fully God at the same time, He humbled Himself willing to die for us. He gave Himself over to an excruciating death because He had the eternal Kingdom at the front of His mind. Because of His willingness to be obedient to God to that extent, God exalted Him to the highest place and gave Him the name above all names. Therefore, if we believe this to be true and have called upon the name of the Lord, then we are called to be light bearers in this world. And we are called to work out our salvation with fear and trembling! That is the story of Easter. And that story remains true even when the world and the traditions with which we’ve surrounded the “holiday” seem to be out of sorts.

If you could use one word to describe the current feeling in the world with all that is going on, what would it be? One that quickly comes to mind for me is “dark.” The world just seems dark. When I walk into a coffee shop, where I normally am inclined to hang around for an extended period socializing with the baristas and other people there, and find that there is Plexiglas between me and the barista, no one allowed to be sitting at the tables, tape marking the safe distance I can stand from the next person in line, the world seems like a dark place. The answer to “how are you” is no longer automatically “good.” There is fear in the eyes of people that you see at the grocery store. The world is dark right now. But the message of Jesus — the message of Easter — is a message of hope. There was no darker day than the day Jesus was crucified. In fact, quite literally, the world was dark for a period of time during that terrible event. As the man who had never done anything wrong breathed His last breath, the world darkened. But there was a light coming that would chase away even the darkest darkness. Jesus’ resurrection is a beacon of light and hope that changed the world forever. That’s what I celebrated last weekend even though I did it in my pajamas with my little family. My current circumstances have not changed my Easter.

Now here we are, a couple thousand years after the first Easter, and the world is at one of its darkest hours. What will we, the people of God, the messengers of hope, the recipients of salvation, do about it? Are we going to bunk up and be silent and fearful of what is happening around us? Or will we lean into the hope we have in the light of Christ and spread that to as many people as possible? I know right now we can’t physically be walking around spreading hope, but it’s 2020. There’s Facebook, Instagram, and many other ways you can be using your life to be a light to those who need it. We can give into a spirit of fear and choose to live in the darkness of this world right now, or we can choose to be different. If I can smile at someone today, I’m going to do it. If I can text or call someone today for the sole purpose of checking on them and see how they’re doing, I’m going to do it. If someone who is living in a dark world can be encouraged by the light that I carry within me, then I’m going to spread it. Let’s go be different. Let’s go be light. Let’s go be Jesus.

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness. In every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the veil.