When I walked out of that grave, it was like the world tilted, and I felt my heart beat for the first time. I knew nothing of what would come of me, but I knew Jesus. It didn’t matter if anything else made sense.
But time ain’t so sweet. Where my world once tilted and turned at the sound of His voice, it now only slightly glitches when I remember what He did for me.
The magnitude of Jesus’ love hit me like thunder when I was young. Some days it just doesn’t feel like it used to. It feels like the “last thing” or the “badge I wear proudly” or “just something else”. It stops being the lifeblood and only becomes the side note to my Christian life.
But Jesus! He is everything, isn’t He?
This past weekend, we skipped Good Friday service because I had spent the last 48 hours keeping nothing in my stomach. I was sicker than a dog. It felt like no Good Friday to me. And then Saturday came, and I felt a bit huffy with the Lord. There’s a lot of things I don’t understand, and one thing that I can’t shake recently is how Christianity looks. How it interacts with those who don’t care to believe in a risen King.
The world feels like it’s in knots around me. I don’t know how to navigate the “Jesus is everything” life when the world aches and groans. The crowds around me don’t need me and my voice. Lord knows they don’t need another opinion slithering into their ears. But that’s not news a writer loves. “Don’t add to the noise” is just a real bummer when you know you’re created to make noise in this “Jesus is everything” life.
And Sunday arrived. Resurrection Sunday. The day my whole world and hope revolves around. And my kids didn’t care much about the truth of it. My heart felt like lead when I realized sleeping in almost always makes me late. I missed breakfast. Getting out the door felt a little like squeezing an inflated balloon through a pinhole, with kids throwing fits, carrying all our junk–both seen and unseen.
So I said His name, and I let His name rest on my lips as I closed my eyes, because He really is everything.
And just when I thought the lead in my heart would settle to the bottom and resonate in a little cavity. Just when I thought I would lose my mind trying to be a mother for one more minute. Just when I wasn’t so sure if I could get over the hurdle of being a grumpy, huffy human. Just when I felt like there were chains.
He freed me again.
Praises came like the breath in my lungs, and it was like joy and rain and a cascading mountain of holy gratitude. This is the life. It’s hard and inconsistent, and I don’t know how I’ll make it all the time. And then I remember how good He’s always been. How He saved me. How He wrapped me up and gave me a place at the table and said my voice was a good one, an important one, and one that wouldn’t go to waste.
My Jesus. He came back. And I’m dancing on that grave.