It is Easter

and I don't think my mind can comprehend all that that means. Soon, I will be cooking Easter dinner with my extended family. My cousin is currently learning Easter hymns by ear on the guitar. Earlier today we had a sermon preceded by donuts -- extra special. The sky is grey, but all the signs indicate that it is, in fact, springtime. All the hallmarks of Easter are here.

I've seen all the Facebook posts by all my friends with great Bible verses, hymn lyrics, and joyous expressions of gratitude. They make me happy. But I'm afraid that the Easter-y trappings are simply sweeping me along. How do I wrap my head around all that Easter is?

I really hope you're not spending a lot of your Easter Sunday on the computer, but if you just happen to stop by, what puts it in perspective for you? How do you understand the magnitude of Christ's sacrifice? How do you approach it with a receptive heart? How can you even come near to knowing its significance? What do you do to prepare your heart to listen to the message?

This particular passage is a favorite of mine. I've never really connected it with Easter before, but I think it's a good place to start.

I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. -- 1 Corinthians 15:50-57, ESV

 Sometimes we need help getting back to basics. Please share your answers, if you're so inclined.

Broken isn't beautiful

Last night I saw Les Misérables for the second time. It is my favorite book, my favorite musical, and this recent movie version is almost certainly on my list of favorite movies. It would be easy for me to turn this into a post made of pure fangirl, but luckily Les Mis is so good that it inevitably lends itself to deeper thought.

Seeing it again offered some clarity on an idea that's been milling around in my head for a while now, the title of this post: broken isn't beautiful.

Some people may take offense at this, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to those who have experienced hardship and horror in their lives. I don't want to minimize the pain people go through or the strength it takes to overcome it. But that's my point -- it's not the pain and horror itself that makes things beautiful. It's the fact that we do overcome it. The beauty comes in healing, salvation, and light. The problem is I think some people, even Christians, tend to glorify brokenness.

But don't we have to learn from mistakes? Doesn't overcoming hardship make us stronger? Aren't some of the most admirable people in the world those who have gone through trauma and pain, only to come out the other side better and stronger?

 I do believe so. But I think we tend to concentrate on these actions because we don't know what true beauty looks like. This world is a cracked mirror. What we see can never be the same as that which is true. If we knew what real beauty looked like, truth and goodness untainted by this world's darkness, would we try to hold up our brokenness as the better thing?

But we do have flaws. There is evil at work, and it has left scars. However, scars exist because wounds have been healed. Though there is pain, we don't need to despair.

And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. -- 2 Corinthians 12:9, NKJV

We don't boast in our infirmities because they're infirmities. We boast in them because they are opportunities to let Christ shine through us. Thus, the boast is not for us and the evil that has affected us. It's for Christ.

Les Misérables means "the miserable ones." It's a story of darkness at war in human history, taking lives, wrecking families, oppressing nations. Still, I believe it is the most beautiful story I've ever heard. Why? Because we are shown light wins out over darkness. God's goodness saves. It takes a thief and a desperate man and turns him into a bastion of righteousness for others. The marks of a thief are still there, but they serve not to define the man, but contrast who he has become.

But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain; but I labored more abundantly than they all, yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. -- 1 Corinthians 15:10, NKJV

Swallowed Up In Victory

He sought to counsel and calm the despairing man by pointing out to him the man of resignation, and transform the grief that looks down into the grave by showing it the grief which looks up to the stars.  -- Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

One of my favorite Bible passages is 1 Corinthians 15. I latched onto it in middle school mostly because of the grandeur of Paul's phrases. I'm not sure I understood it at all for a long time. I know I'm still working on it.

I heard the famous lines -- "Oh death, where is your victory? Oh grave, where is your sting?" in a service memorializing Josh Larkin last night. I only met Josh once. I was in a friend's video she was shooting for class. Josh was picking songs for us to dance to. Since then, I'd seen him around, but I never really knew him.

It's amazing the outpouring of love I've seen at Taylor since his death. Now, I feel like I really know Josh, at least as most people will remember him. Strangely, in all the tears, it's also been a time of real joy and awakening. This week has brought me back to another time of joy and tears -- the death of my speech teacher, Mrs. Petrie.

I've been to funerals before, but they were quiet, family things where I didn't really know the person who died. Mrs. Petrie and Josh Larkin were different. Their memorial services were both a giant outreach into the Christian community. They placed me in the center of a mass of grieving people with their arms around each other. When those they loved spoke, the were obviously grieving. But I am amazed at how deeply and truly these communities -- the Blairsburg Missionary Alliance Church and Taylor University -- worship God in the face of death.

Mrs. Petrie was the most gentle and loving Christian lady I have ever met. Josh Larkin embraced the life he'd been given and loved everyone he knew. Death is an opportunity to give a long and hard look at a person's life. And they live on.

Mr. Larkin spoke to Taylor yesterday about the death of his son. There is a word I hope stays in use around campus: Joshian. That was a Joshian thing to do. We should all have Joshian love.

Really, we should all love like Christ. Mrs. Petrie exemplified that. I'm learning that Josh did, too. And because of the things I've learned, I can see what Christ's love looks like. I can strive to love as they did.

And I will strive.

For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

“O death, where is your victory?

O death, where is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.