Easter is quickly becoming one of my favorite days of the year. It's probably not good to admit this as a pastor's wife, but my favorite things about Easter in the past had been totally pagan. I love Cadbury creme eggs, and getting a new dress, and seeing all the little girls at church wearing their shiniest shoes and the sweet little socks with lace at the top. Sometimes I would even forget that it was Easter until I went downstairs to my dad's, "HE IS RISEN!" And I'd smile and respond, "He is risen, indeed."
I love that ritual. Every Easter morning, He is risen, indeed. My dad would usually continue saying this for several days after Easter, and I loved it more and more each time.
Easter meant more this year for a few reasons. The first was that with IF: Equip we read through the Gospel accounts of the days leading up to the cross and the resurrection for like, two weeks. It was the first time that I had really rooted myself in the Scriptures that we were celebrating. I was reflecting daily on the truth of what Jesus saved us from and the excruciating way He had to do it. It was also the first time we had intentionally observed Good Friday. We went to some family friends' house and prayed and sang. We prayed for the persecuted Christians around the world, we prayed that we would live worthy of the cross, and we thanked Jesus for making a way for us to be united with God again, to be united with each other. Then we had communion over mint lemonade and charcuterie and chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. I love how portable Church really is.
When Easter morning rolled around, I could hardly wait to text my dad, even before I got his annual "He is Risen," I texted, "He Is Risen, Indeed."