Easter

The centerpiece of the Christian faith. Because He died and rose from the grave, this Jesus is set apart from the other deified heroes across the years. This day has always felt more special to me than all others in the year because it represents not just the birth of a savior, but a deliberate act of love, sacrifice, and an undebatable miracle.

This year is different. Not only because of the obvious. Yes, this one calendar year feels like 12 of them. But for the first time in my life as a Christian I feel a sense of conspicuousness in my celebration and honoring of Easter. So much has changed. During the past year, I’ve had to stop referring to myself as a Christian. The term, high jacked by political terrorists, has become a divisive, weaponized tool of Satan. Maybe that was needed. Maybe I’m late to the party about what the term has represented to many for years.

But for the first time, I understand what it feels like to be an outsider of the club of Christianity. The social media posts of friends celebrating in traditional ways are making me uncomfortable. The theatrical announcements of church flyers feel manipulative. The traditions feel like they’re in need of some rewriting.

For the first time, I don’t want to count myself as part of the club. Not if it means being associated with a golden idol being rolled through a hotel lobby. Or if it means being associated with a denomination that was slow to denounce slavery. Or if it means placing a man-made litmus tests about who we can love and what choices we have over our bodies on our qualifications as a follower of Jesus.

No. The Jesus I know wouldn’t have any of this. He loved the margins. He fought the powerful. He loved the ones others had cast out. He would likely be shunned by those who today, ironically, label themselves under the banner of His name.

I don’t want that kind of Easter anymore. I want, simply, Jesus.

I love Him. I love the enormity of His Easter. And this morning I’m recommitting my life, not to the work of the church as I thought I should for so long. But to the work of emulating Him.

Because He lives.