One of my favorite things about Easter is my role as the Easter Bunny. Not everyone appreciates that tradition, but I absolutely love stuffing Easter baskets. I’ve been doing it now for 24 years, and love it still. What I didn’t anticipate during that first year was how hard it would be to go from three baskets to two. We had already made it through multiple holidays with an empty chair at the table and a stocking that went unfilled, but the empty basket brought with it a wave of grief for which I was totally unprepared. Every year at this time I look at that third basket on the shelf, and the range of emotions that washes over me still brings me to my knees.
Almost seven years ago we suffered a loss so profound we didn’t know how we would recover. We knew we would never be the same. But by God’s grace, and with the love and support of his people we grieved, and we began the slow journey toward healing. It wasn’t pretty. We have a limp, scars that seem like they are barely holding at times, and we’ve met with some strong disapproval, but we have managed to move forward with the healing process. Just when we thought we could come up for a breath I’m pretty sure Satan himself snarled, “How dare they!” And a few years after we buried our son, he picked up right where he left off...kicking our family in the teeth. Seven years ago, Satan dealt our family what he thought was literally a death blow, but we dared to stagger back to our feet, wounded, weary, and bleeding, but confident that Christ could and would rescue our family if we would call on Him. So, we did. But I made a grave mistake. I thought we had been through the worst Satan could throw at us. I thought certainly we were safe, exempt from more heartbreak. So Satan saw an open door. He saw a family beginning to heal. Even worse, he saw a family having an impact for the Kingdom of Christ, and he launched an all-out assault on our family that I never saw coming. He used people we trusted which made it more devastating. We were blindsided.
Last week, I was sitting in bed before church talking to Spencer. I was telling him that it felt like the fiery darts kept coming at intervals so close it was hard to catch my breath. I was tired. The kind of tired that is more than physical. It’s a tired that invades your mind and your spirit. But I showered and got ready for church, because I love Palm Sunday. During worship we sang one of my favorite songs. The lyrics washed over me. “We will not be moved when the earth gives way for the risen One has overcome...And for every fear there’s an empty grave for the risen One has overcome.” I stood there thinking, “This is it. It feels like the earth is giving way. I’ve been here before.” But, here’s the deal. I have been here before. On the night our son died I felt like the earth was shifting under my feet, and I couldn’t stop it. I felt like this for weeks and months. It was like being stuck in quicksand. Our world was literally spinning out of control, but the God who knows when a sparrow falls was faithful when we called on him. He was faithful to hold us and carry us when our world was crumbling. And last week I was reminded again that no matter how bad things look He is still in the business of taking care of his people. He is still on his throne. He is not surprised or caught off guard. He’s got this.
This world is full of hard stuff. I am not the only momma who has buried her child. You might be in the middle of a situation that seems hopeless right now. You might have one less Easter basket to fill this year or one less chair at your table, your child or a your spouse might be dealing with addiction, your marriage might be in trouble, your child might be far from Jesus, you might have experienced betrayal by a family member or friend, you might be ill, you might be longing for a child, or you might be facing any number of devastating circumstances that you can’t control. Whatever it is you can feel the earth shifting under your feet, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re ever going to regain your footing.
As this Good Friday comes to a close let me take a minute to encourage you. Somewhere close to 2,000 years ago (give or take a few years) a perfect sacrifice chose to take my place and your place on a cross. He knew exactly where we would be tonight, and he chose those nails anyway. He loves us so much, and he has a purpose for us even for our suffering. He knew where we would succeed. He knew where we would fail miserably. He knew we would be a fickle, needy bunch, and he chose us anyway. He promises all throughout scripture that He will never leave us or forsake us. Psalm 18:2 says, “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.” This is how we regain our footing when we feel the earth giving way beneath us. We choose to trust in the Rock of our Salvation. We run for that high place. We stand on the promises in his Word. We cling to them, and we don’t let go. We flood our homes with worship. We fight on our knees. And at the end of the day we rest knowing that the God who loved us enough to die in our place has won whatever battle we are facing. Y’all, it’s Friday, but unlike the disciples on this night, we don’t have to wonder. We know the rest of the story. We don’t have to sit here tonight, hunkered down, fretting, wondering how our story will end. We get to confidently celebrate a risen Savior who promises to hold us steady when the world around us is crumbling if we will just trust him. Because of the work done on the cross and the empty tomb we know that one day soon these temporary troubles will give way to a perfect eternity. In the meantime, we hold fast to the One who causes all things, even the things we think we can’t endure, to work together for good. And Praise God for that!
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