[white as snow]

Easter is waking up to a winter blizzard and being reminded of Isaiah 1:18:

'Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be white as snow;"

Then seeing the contrast between red and white as you trek through the snow to work:

 Super peaceful and powerful.

[to respond]

Today our youth group and I went to a different place for Sunday service. And like places of worship around the U.S., the first thing mentioned was Connecticut. Two days after the elementary school massacre it's still hard to believe.

But like many other leaders, the minister's first few statements were about it. "We must respond," he said. The next question: how?

Some say stricter gun and gun-control laws.

Some say more safety drills and higher security at schools.

Others say better mental-health awareness.

People have posted all kinds of things all over the Web. Blogs just like this trying to respond. News articles with varied viewpoints. Facebook and Twitter posts on people's opinions and sadness. All attempts to offer comfort, solutions and sympathies.

And we can analyze and orchestrate all kinds of responses to this type of tragedy, but truth is, what happened in Connecticut isn't going to be solved by us. Because Connecticut wasn't the result of a broken or faulty system. Connecticut was evidence of a cancer of the soul. A sickening disease when you see humanity's capabilities. A deep sadness no matter who you are or what you believe. And no law, security system or opinion will have the power to heal that.

I told you we went to a new place of worship today. Their response? Listen. Give a child our full attention. Engage in "activities that will strengthen our connection to neighbors". Improve options for those with mental issues, and focus on gun control.

Good things? Yes. Helpful things? Of course. But where is the hope in that? Do we simply trust in ourselves, as humans, for improving our world when we, as humans, have also destroyed it? Not to be cynical, but let's be realistic. You don't patch a gashing wound with a Band-Aid.

Instead I come back to the power of a once crucified but living Lord. The power that raised Christ from the dead. The power that is steadily restoring the world, even when we can't see it clearly on dark days like this. The only power that needs no courts to uphold it, "likes" on Facebook to support it or votes in Congress to enact it. The ultimate power that is capable of soul transformation.

Our response to Connecticut? Easter. Comfort, hope and a will to believe in the best of humanity because we have Easter.

God, I don't see your victory in this, but I see your victory on the cross. And because of Jesus' resurrection, I know I have every reason to trust that all Your other promises to us will come true as well. So I put my hope in that. Just like Paul, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection" in my life and in this world (Philippians 3:10). I fully believe it's the only thing that will put us all back together again.

[O death, where is your sting?]

This morning Easter is the ultimate - hope in eternity for those who believe in Christ. My pastor and co-worker just lost his dad much-too-early by human standards, and as I was praying for him and his family on my run, God brought this verse to mind: "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" [1 Corinthians 15:55]

Reminds me of Matt Maher's song - Christ is Risen .

Everyday Easter today? Knowing I serve a risen Lord who made it possible for all who believe to also rise. To also live eternally. To also find hope and comfort that this is not the end. And that death can no longer steal what Christ bought back with His blood.

[only one thing]

I said I'd write more often with less words, so here's day one of everyday Easter. A day that started with a chilly run, good coffee and great Bible time.

Then I leave my cozy house for the church, and before I know it, I'm fresh out of patience. It really should warn me when it's below half like a gas gauge you know? But I ask myself, where is the Easter victory in this? In the not-bad-but-frustrating days where nothing you wanted to accomplish got done. Where your to-do list only increased onto page 98.

But as I write, I'm reminded of Jesus' words to Martha in Luke 10:41-42. I picture them soft-spoken but firm, correcting yet graceful, as He rebukes her for unnecessary anxiety. "'Martha, Martha,' the Lord answered. 'you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.'"

The one thing? Not to-do's. Not undones. Not should-have-gotten-to-that-last-week. Just resting in the truth that God does not condemn me nor anyone for what we do and do not accomplish in our day to day tasks. Just remembering that my worth is not my work-output, timeliness or efficiency. That's how the world measures us. That's how the world values us, but that's not God's way.  And that, my friends, is Easter.

The one thing? It's worship. It's resting in a God who loves us enough to purchase our freedom and pay our ransom on the cross. And nothing we do or leave undone changes that. My value is not in what I accomplish "for" God. My value is in being His.

Mary worshiped Jesus as Martha stressed about tasks. And though that's backwards to the world, Mary chose what was better.

[why everyday Easter]

I started this blog off a post from my first one - [i need Easter for today, not just eternity]. 

It was an entry that came out of helplessness. A week where there wasn't a lot I could do about a really tough situation. A time when all I had to offer was prayer, hugs, tears and encouragement, but even those things felt pathetic and useless. 

Yet in those moments, God met me with this sweet truth. That there was Easter victory to declare over that situation. That there was eternal hope to cling to when everything in this world seemed defeating. That He was present in the midst, and that He was worthy of being trusted to make it beautiful no matter my perspective. Simply because that's who He is. Simply because that's what Easter's about.

And though it's been eight months since, I still find myself trying to grasp what it means to believe, trust-in and live-out the resurrection victory daily. What it means to have freedom from living like the world and fearing what the world fears.

I'm not just talking about death, though ultimately that's what Easter defeats. What about fear of imperfection? Failure? Inadequacy? Image? What makes one beautiful, accepted, successful or loved? Is there hope and restoration to believe in for broken families, friendships, relationships, people groups and nations? How about mental illnesses, loneliness, depression and the soul cancers like pride, jealously, anger and lust? 

Can it be true that Christ purchased our freedom from those things as well that first Easter morn? Can it be true He gave us resurrection hope for right here and now? For today's mistakes and tomorrow's battles? And can it be possible to recognize and embrace those victories? 

I believe so. I really do. And that's what this blog is about. Shorter, more frequent entries I hope. Entries about finding the everyday Easter in the normal, everyday happenings of life. Because I want to know and see and experience the Easter victory right here and now, and I believe God offers it to each one of us. Every day.