Easter at Home

   Several years ago, I did the "Jesus the One and Only" study and it coincided with Easter. I never felt the same about Good Friday. But, after a friends funeral yesterday I found myself contemplating things I had not yet. When someone passes away, I always try to remember their family on the firsts. First birthdays, first holidays, all the firsts without their loved one. As I was praying over those tender days well in advance, it occurred to me that this will be a year of firsts for Rheagan as well.

   

   This weekend will be Rheagan's first Easter with Jesus. Never before in her life has she SEEN her Risen Lord on the day we celebrate His resurrection. Never before has she seen how HE would choose to be worshipped and celebrated. What must an Easter celebration planned by heavenly hosts be like? No distractions or Saturdays spent frantically gathering meaningless candy or plastic grass. No easter dresses bought on sale, no sandals that rub 'cause you've never worn them, no half eaten chocolate bunnies in foil. What it must be like to celebrate your first Easter with Jesus.... clothed in splendor, in garments of praise! Garments of PRAISE people! To feast at the banquet prepared by His Father? And it makes me wonder.....

  

   Now, I know praise never ceases in heaven, but just as we remember our 2nd birthday or the day we "got saved" or baptized.....don't you know that God Almighty remembers His Sons resurrection with immeasurably more rejoicing. I think back on days of loss or suffering in my own life when the anniversary comes year after  year and even though I've seen restoration or healing, I let my heart ache just a little bit so I don't forget what Christ has done for me. As a momma, I believe my Heavenly Father's heart still stings when he remembers His precious Son, Jesus, and how He had to LEAVE HIM ON THE CROSS that day.....that Good Friday. If you've ever had your baby hurt, you know as much as it is unbearable to see you just can't take your eyes off them. When my babies have been in pain, even something as simple as shots, I've held them, held their little legs or arms as they cried, and forced my eyes to stay open and I know they didn't understand but in my mind I was honoring their pain. I couldn't take it from them, but as their momma I would watch and go through every second with them. I wouldn't let them be alone as they suffered. And that is the inadequate, finite, filthy heart of a mother.

    

   Emmanuel, God with us, was with HIM. And, oh how he honored His pain. He was with Him there and though He couldn't take His pain, He watched every second, every awful awful second as He waited for it to achieve its purpose. And it broke His heart. God's pain and fury blackened the sky, dispatched thunder and tore the veil in honor of His Son's pain. I wonder if it still stings when He remembers that. Even though His Son reigns with Him in Eternity and is seated safely next to Him, enthroned in majesty, does He let His heart ache just a little bit? Even if for no other reason than it makes celebrating the resurrection of His child that much sweeter? I wonder what one might see in heaven today.