Fixing Your Eyes on the Risen Christ
Okay, real talk. Easter Sunday has come and gone. The ham has been eaten, the Easter lilies are wilting on the windowsill, and the chocolate eggs are gone (or maybe that's just at my house). The decorations are back in the bin, and life has rudely resumed its regularly scheduled programming, complete with the bills, the aches, the worries, and that one news headline that makes you want to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head.
And somewhere in the middle of all that ordinary Monday-ness, you might be wondering: Was Easter just a Sunday? Or does it mean something for right now, when my circumstances are anything but hopeful?
Oh, friend. Peter has something to say about that.
The Apostle Peter wasn't writing from a cozy armchair. He was writing to believers who were scattered, suffering, and facing very real persecution.
Your Easter Sunday Is On Its Way
I want you to do something for me. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine it's the darkest stretch of days the world has ever known. The sky went black in the middle of the afternoon. The earth shook. The temple veil ripped right down the middle. And the Man they had called the Son of God took His last breath on a Roman cross.
The days that followed were devastating. The disciples huddled together in a locked room, trembling behind closed doors. Peter was a wreck. John had nothing to say. The women were weeping. And two shell-shocked followers shuffling down the road to Emmaus were kicking the dust with heavy feet and mumbling to each other about how they had hoped He was the One. Past tense. Had hoped.
They had followed Him. Believed in Him. Left everything for Him. And now He was dead, sealed behind a borrowed stone, and their hope was buried right along with Him.