Lean In and Remember

Welcome to April, sweet friends.  There are flowers blooming, birds chirping, the sky is a gorgeous blue (most days, unless… well, hail! And a windchill of 39! Hasn’t this been Texas weather at its best?! or worst?!).  I spy tiny buds on my favorite weeping tree in the backyard and when I hop into my car after it’s been sitting a while it is warm and toasty.  The sun is reaching deep into my soul and thawing my insides! 

In all the warmth, though, my mind has, oddly, shifted to Christmas.  To the divide and connection between our Christmas celebrations and our celebrations of the Resurrection. We cannot have one without the other.  Without the empty tomb, the manger birth would be unworthy of mention – a poor, young mother, a long time ago, and a simple illegitimate son. 

We masterfully focus on the Real Story of Christmas.  We balance the fun and “magic” of the season – Christmas trees, Santa, stockings, musical jingles and elves – with the beauty and joy of our Savior’s arrival – a journey, a manger, a Baby and a heavenly host.  The whole Holiday Season begins with costumes and candy, continues with a month of Thanksgiving and another of joy (and stress).  We are filled with activity – trees to decorate, gifts to buy, sweets to bake, parties to attend.  Each year, I plan ways to make the season memorable, magical even.  I often stumble across a calendar or blog and try to recreate that author’s day to day kindness (or family bonding or spiritual or cooking) activities, or, I make my own calendar of holiday “To-Do”.  If I’m honest, this often leads me to feeling overwhelmed and sometimes like a failure.  So, through the wisdom of my husband’s guidance, I decipher what’s a priority, focus on those things and then back off a bit and try to settle in and enjoy.  Well, at least I try!

Easter, by contrast, tends to sneak up on us.  Even if our church places major emphasis on the Lenten calendar and offers services to focus our minds or requires fasting or sacrifice to focus our bodies, somehow our hearts and intentions can miss the spirit of Easter.  Perhaps it has been this way since the beginning of the story.  Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth, and others “in the know” experienced great buildup to His birth.  Angel visits, family visits, an almost-called-off-betrothal, forty weeks of preparation.  By contrast, the crucifixion – and resurrection – came quickly, unexpectedly to those that surrounded Jesus.  Only a week prior, He was hailed and celebrated with the waving of palm leaves!  Truly, it is easier to soak in the joy of a new baby than it is to understand the horror of the cross.  A baby in a manger fills our ears with sweet, peaceful hymns and promises of peace on earth.  Death on a cross breaks our hearts and leaves us as scattered as the Eleven.  But… Resurrection.  Resurrection redeems and forges the narrow path to relationship with the Father.  We must give attention to the Real Story of Easter – decipher what’s a priority, focus on those things – but instead of backing off and enjoying, we lean in and remember. 

This year, as April begins, in all its springtime glory, I challenge you to prepare yourself, perhaps even lead your family, to refocus on the Real Story of Easter. 

Today, I’ll offer you 3 simple ways to lean in and remember. 

First, read one of the gospels.  Open the Scripture not to study verse by verse for life application, instead as the redemptive love story for which it was written.  Consider Matthew or Luke as they are both full life accounts of Jesus.  Read Matthew, written from the perspective of one who was there or Luke, a compilation to strengthen the faith of early believers.  If you don’t think you can sit and read one of the books, listen to it being read to you as you would a podcast or an audio book. (The Youversion Bible app is free and includes audio.)

Second, find silence.  Wait, don’t dismiss this one… even you, Mommas of littles… silence is there, I promise, just look.  This week as I visited with a friend, I mentioned kind of a funny way I found silence even when I was teaching full time and it began when William was tiny….  William was a notoriously short napper, so would frequently fall asleep in the car on the way home.  When he fell asleep in the car, I would often pull into the garage, turn off the car, and just sit in silence until he woke up.  Sometimes, I would read, or grade papers (or nap!).  But, many days, I would simply sit.  I still do this sometimes after a busy day.  Last week, twice, William did the same.  Choosing to sit in the car to finish a chapter, and another day a math problem.  Finding quiet before he jumped into the next moment of busyness. 

Where can you find silence? In the morning, before your house arises?  In the midday, choosing to turn off the TV or the radio or the ever-present socials?  At bedtime, lingering just a moment after the breathing of your little gives signal of deep sleep?  It doesn’t have to be long, just a moment.

When you find your moment, don’t fill it.  Take a deep breath, open your palms, relax your shoulders and lift your head.  Simply stay in silence.  Then, thank Jesus for his long walk to the cross, for His defeat of death and strength to rise.

Third, notice.  Open your eyes and your heart to the incredible gift Jesus gave us.  Every step toward the cross, we were on his mind.  He continues to give those gifts now.  Sometimes the gifts are natural – a sunrise or sunset, the distinct beauty of the pink crepe myrtles against the blue sky.  Sometimes it is the smile of a stranger or the hug or kind word of a friend.  In her book, The Next Right Thing, Emily P. Freeman reminds us, “Jesus works in small surprises in the midst of the long haul – through people, through connection, through his body, the church.”

Perhaps, you will even have a moment to do all three practices at once.  Quietly watch the sunrise while reading the Scripture. 

Friends, I hope you lean in this season and remember.  As a point of note, I intentionally kept these suggestions short and simple.  My heart longs to connect you to the story, not to overwhelm with another “to do”, another way to feel you’ve failed, another straw to balance on your back.  Be encouraged as you spend quiet moments alone this week. 

Many Blessings – Bethany