Frail

Today we celebrate Resurrection Sunday, Easter, the most important date on the Christian calendar, what Jesus followers believe is the most important event in human history.

I've read at bit this week in the blogosphere about various observances of this holy day, opinions ranging from "Don't force me to evoke an emotional reaction on Easter... I can worship Jesus every day" to "Chocolate bunnies and new dresses are a mockery of the profound suffering Jesus endured for the sin of the world".  And I can relate to both ways of thinking.

What touches me today about the death, Crucifixion and resurrection of Christ is his frailty.  As we sung a victorious anthem in church today, the slides were superimposed with scenes depicting the Passion.  Those images always provoke a gut reaction, a desire to look away, in me.  The stark suffering, the weakness in the actor's face as he portrays Jesus being heaved skyward.

Frail.  Our God made himself frail.  He came to us in a form we would recognize.

And all the secret shame we carry--addictions, hangups, pain, disappointments, fears, all of our darkness, the things we hide--he bore publicly. The things we cover up with our smiling faces and pretty garments, Christ held up for the world to look on... physically, emotionally, and spiritually naked. Alone.

And today my family still wore our fluffy dresses and bows and took pictures and ate yummy food and enjoyed the privilege of living in a nation of political freedom.  And if that was all  Easter was to me as a Jesus follower, it would be a mockery of the suffering Savior who gave his life as a ransom for many.

I'd like to think that wearing my Easter best and having fun with eggs and candy in a small way honors the newness of life that Jesus purchased for sinful humanity by dying a criminal's death. We can be intentional in teaching our children what's just for fun and what's life and death to us. The pretty symbols are not the main attraction.  Of course not.

My human flesh, and my spirit, is frail.  But now, because I belong to Jesus, I am clothed on the inside, made clean by his blood.  And you can't see that in my Easter pictures (in which I can't get us all looking at the camera to save-my-life), but it's there.

Life, on the inside. Proof that He lives.