Flowery dresses are dawned.
Chocolate bunnies fill baskets.
Ham dinner is in the oven.
But as the Easter festivities are in a full swing my heart is drifting. My heart needs more than dresses and baskets. My heart needs Jesus. My heart needs a living Jesus.
What does the resurrection mean to me, a grieving parent?
He is not here.
“He is not here,” the angel spoke.
When they went to the grave he wasn’t there. His body wasn’t in the grave. He was not in the grave.
Some days I am drawn to my son’s grave. I still weep over the spot where his body lays. I still find the greatest comfort that he is not there.
He is risen.
The dead lie. The living rise.
He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Come, see the place where He was lying. Mt. 28:6
He is alive.
Jesus was not there because he was alive. My son is more than the container that held his spirit. His spirit is alive. Jesus made him alive. I desperately need him to be alive.
So in Christ all will be made alive. 1 Cor. 15:22
And the great resurrection chapter of scripture closes with this:
Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord. 1 Cor 15:58