BFD

I've had a difficult time with Easter this year. Maybe not as bad as when I was cussing about it when in the hospital, but just an Easter that has been somewhat joyless. And that's a real bummer, because in my mind I know Easter is glorious. It is life defeating death. God conquering sin. Joy triumphing over sorrow. But I still don't get what I'm supposed to do with that knowledge.
I'm just neck deep in cognitive dissonance. In one hand, I'm holding onto the knowledge that God loves His people and is for them. That He is so for them that He left comfy heaven to come to stinky earth, dwell with us, wash our feet, let us spit on him and kill him, and then, holy freakin' cow, rise again so that we might share in his glory. In the other hand, I'm holding onto the knowledge that life is hard. And rarely does it make sense.
Last week, the husband of an acquaintance of mine died. In his sleep. He was 44. I don't have a category into which to put this information and so it keeps ping ponging around my brain. I mean, who, in the 21st century, thinks of a young widow? I'm just not understanding it. And what aggravates me most of all is that I know I never will.
Sometimes bad things happen, like say, being infertile. But weeks and months go by and you can see God's hand in it. You can look back and see how it was a blessing and continues to be. So the pain is bittersweet. Still bitter, but bittersweet.
And on Easter, I'm supposed to be proclaiming, "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" But I feel death's sting--I don't really need to ask that question. The truth is death stings. And it is supposed to. It is a sign that the world is broken. But what is also true is that Easter happened and so that while death stings, it does not have the last word.
I would like to wrap all of this information up in a neat little theological package. Something that would make a great sound byte. Something I could put on a sticker--you know, "Smile, Jesus loves you" emblazoned over a rainbow. But that makes me want to punch someone in the face.
I don't think God is asking me to suck it up. I think that would be the opposite of rightly looking at Easter. I just don't know what living out the joy that Easter brings is supposed to mean. I don't feel joyful.

I feel like saying "He is Risen"--big flippin' deal.

I'm just thankful, that as I think that, I can hear the Spirit within me asking, "Well, Elizabeth, can you think of anything else that is a bigger deal?"

No. I cannot.

So I will not let the darkness allow me to forget what I've seen in the light.
So until He flips the lights back on, I'll try to remember where the furniture is and pray I don't stub my toe.