It’s Easter.

 It’s Easter. I’m seeing so many He is Risen posts. Too many to count. So I thought I’d add my own. Because what does that mean in practice for me?

This isn’t a post to slam Easter Egg hunts, or Bunny Rolls, or jelly beans and all of the modern festivities that accompany the holiday. In fact it might be the opposite.

No this is me digging deep to see inside of me what does not only Easter but the entire Holy Week mean to me. And what am I going to do about it. 

I’m not here to debate the historicity of scripture, or of Christ himself. I have faith that a Savior experienced the things said, and I have faith that it was purposely done for us.

I’ve been struck by his actions directly before and directly after he performed the Atonement this week. Really struck.

His last acts before the Atonement were to wash the feet of his Apostles and give them the sacrament. To serve them. His last mortal miracle was performed directly after when he healed the ear of the man Peter struck. A man sent to arrest Christ himself and do harm, Christ healed him.

His last acts before his death were to comfort those criminals facing crucifixion beside him and to make sure his mother was cared for.

Even between expounding on the truth of who he was, even around his greatest acts for us, all the way up until he was crucified he was directly involved in serving others. In the welfare of others.   

I don’t have that goodness. I fear at most I would be like Peter. Hotheaded in defense and denying when my life was challenged. And that’s only before his death. I really wonder if I had not learned of Christ since childhood if I’d have the fortitude to follow him. Take the abuse and struggle beside him. 

I don’t know. So it’s on me to model that care for others as best I can from the here and now. To follow his example from his mortal life. 

We can see how hard that is to do now. And how hard it was to do then. 

I can only imagine how those who loved him felt upon his death. How lost.

His return had to shock. The sprints to the tomb. The doubting of Thomas. The lack of recognition. 

I’d at best, at best be Thomas. Doubting and needing to see him.

One might argue that my faith now is enough that I wouldn’t doubt. But if I’d known him. Loved him personally in the way those apostles intimately did. I’d doubt my friend and mentor had returned. 

Jesus went to his apostles and loved ones specifically for that reason. To love them. To show them he was whole. And still had work to do. To love more people.

Peter tells us that while Christ died he attended to the spirits in prison. He didn’t wait with his father. He didn’t glory. He served all over again. To the least.

Which makes those visits to Mary Magdalene, the apostles (especially Thomas), and others all that more powerful. His love for them was as great as it was for the least of these. 

I need to emulate that. I can do better than I have to be like him. 

At a polarized time. I need to love those that would harm me, as he did. 

I need to continue working with the sick, the indigent, the weak, the needy, the downtrodden. Those like me, and those that have it worse.

And I need to spend time with my loved ones. Christ did. He called people his beloved. His visited them. He washed the feet of those closest to him. 

I can do that better. I can love wife more wholly. I can watch and care for my kids that grow. I can check in on family. I can hold the friends who love me most just a little bit tighter.

And I’ll be better for it.