Remembering on Easter

Today is the earliest Easter has fallen on the calendar in 95 years. It won’t come this early again in our lifetimes, not even in our children’s lifetimes. Those are some long stretches.

And today has been a long day.

I wore a skirt this morning that I haven’t been able to fit in since before I got pregnant. After that triumph, it’s been one mishap after another.

Caelyn has been sick since we got back from Oklahoma. She’s spent the last seven days crying. Today was no exception. With that in mind, we decided to skip the family gathering, but still tried to go to church. By the time I wrestled on Caelyn’s dress, her face was red and covered with snot and tears. So much for those pictures I promised Grammi Roo.

Church was packed, so Chris took Caelyn to the nursery while I tried to grab our usual seats, aka the only place in the sanctuary where Chris’ knees don’t jam into the back of the person in front of him. I walked in with 20 minutes to spare, but that spot and all of our normal “consolation” spots were taken. I snagged myself a seat and managed to hang on to one for Chris, despite the greeters’ attempts to get me to relinquish it. I shifted through my purse for my phone to let Chris know where I was. I had my phone case, but no phone. The check-in line at the nursery was merciless, so Chris didn’t appear until the last opening song. We’d have never found each other if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of his forehead at just the right time.

But it didn’t matter. He’d locked the keys in the car and had to wait for the locksmith, who showed up at the end of the service, jimmied the lock in ten seconds, and charged $120.

We tried to eat somewhere afterwards, but gave up when Caelyn wouldn’t stop crying. She fell asleep on the way home, but couldn’t be talked into continuing her nap in her crib. Fortunately, Chili’s To Go reigned in the tears for a few minutes. I’ve just spent the last hour and 18 minutes fighting for the nap she’s taking now.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but trying to get that kid to sleep can make me feel desperate and powerless. You can’t make a kid sleep. You can’t talk them into it. You can’t drug ‘em. You can’t try hard enough and be sure you’re going to win. And if you lose, it’s not like you just give up and go on with your life. If you lose, that’s it. The day’s over. You (and your child) are going to be paying for it until she goes to sleep that night.

Of course, I feel pathetic now. Complaining on Easter. The Christian’s greatest day of celebration. The day we honor the resurrection of Jesus, who was beaten, spat upon, and crucified for my sin. The day we shout “Victory” over death. The day we remember that Jesus is who he said he was and did what he said he would do. Because he rose from the dead, we can believe every other promise he made.

We have hope. We have power.

We have purpose. We have redemption.

We have mercy. We have deliverance.

We have assurance. We have freedom.

We have life. We have forgiveness

We have the anticipation of the glorious appearance of our great God and savior, Jesus Christ, who is coming again to restore his creation, to make things right once and for all.

Nearly 100 people were baptized at our church this morning as a public symbol of their faith. They’ve personally discovered each of those things to be true for the first time and been baptized before the empty cross and the open door on Easter.

And I’m complaining.

I probably shouldn’t be, but, you know, there’s a little bit of Easter in that too. I have a Savior who knows that I am petty and impatient and quick to harsh words. I have a Savior whose resurrection means that I am forgiven for all of those things. I have a Savior who feels with me and responds to me, new each day. I have a Savior who knows me and loves me and cares when I feel desperate and powerless, no matter the cause

Knowing and being known.

That’s what struck me most about the Easter service this year, and it wasn’t even one of the pastor’s points. But names of Jesus and his attributes scrolled across the walls during the first song and I thought to myself, “Do I know Jesus in those ways? Do I remember and regard him in each?” The service ended with Dr. S.M. Lockridge’s “That’s My King,” which says repeatedly, “I wonder, do you know him?”

Over the last few years, my understanding of who God is and how he relates to us has evolved, but the answer to Dr. Lockridge’s question is still an assured “yes.” Even so, it’s easy to “practice” knowing him in one way and not another.

As I considered that, I thought about the component that I left out of yesterday’s post about memory, the spiritual one. There’s a connectedness to God in all that too — He see me. He knows me. He loves me. He remembers me, even in ways that I don’t. He is in the “practice” of knowing me fully and loving me unwaveringly. Through the resurrection, I have access to him in the same way. Through the resurrection, I have the power to continue Jesus’ earthly mission of seeing, knowing, loving, and remembering.

Yes, Easter is foremost about remembering Jesus’ sacrifice and triumph over death that promises life for us. But I think it translates into remembering in another way too.

Our pastor talked about the resurrection giving our lives purpose this morning. As an example of that, Steve, a leader in Water is Basic, talked about the work our church is doing with the Sudanese to bring clean and ample water to their country.

Now, this could’ve easily turned into a guilt-trip to motivate congregation members to give to this project, but it didn’t. That’s something I really like about our church. Where many others would use guilt and fear as motivators, I’ve seen freedom and love. Historically, that’s a tall order, but when I look at the things congregation members are doing for each other, in the community, and throughout the world, I think it’s one that’s in the process of being met very well.

But back to Water is Basic. . . .

It’s an organization that’s working with the Sudanese to drill clean water wells. Right now, 1 out of every 4 children in Southern Sudan dies before the age of 5, and over half of those deaths are due to water-related illnesses. Water is Basic isn’t just bringing water once; it’s providing the drills and the skills, knowledge, and ability to generate funds to keep those drills and new ones running. Wells are up and running and the cost of drilling new ones is down to a manageable $1,000. But the problem isn’t fully resolved.

Click on the pic to read more about Water Is Basic.

Steve recently traveled to Sudan to meet with the Sudanese ministers in charge of the project and see how things are going. At the sight of one of the wells, he met a woman waiting in line. She told him that her home holds 15 people. She needs 3 containers of water a day to care for them. It takes 3 days of standing in line just to fill 1 container. She took Steve’s hand and asked him to relay a message:

“Please, ask your people in the US not to forget us.”

When I heard those words, I couldn’t help but think about what I had just written the night before. Following Jesus means living the sacrifice he made for us by serving each other. It means embracing the freedom of forgiveness found in the resurrection and sharing that freedom with others. But it means remembering too, I think, and it’s not so often that you hear that part. Who did Jesus walk with? Dine with? Heal and empower?

Those who were not remembered. Those whose hearts ached, whose bodies cried out, “Please, don’t forget me.” He even met such a woman at a well.

Jesus didn’t forget. He saw. He knew. He loved.

He remembered.

And he trusts me to do the same.