Tomorrow is Easter Sunday

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.  I love Easter.  The beauty of what the Lord has done for us reduces me to tears and brings me to my knees.  I am humbled.  I rejoice.  I am contemplative.  I am giddy.  I am seriously in love with my Father, my Lord and the One that loves me most!

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.  When I was young we always got new Easter clothes.  Even if we couldn’t afford clothes all year we dressed up fancy on Easter.  Patent leather shoes shined from under, dare I say, crinoline skirted dresses and little white purses hung from our wrists.  My brothers sported black pants, little precious suit coats and bow ties.  We were too cute. This year I have the perfect pastel beads that my African lady friends strung for me, but I have nothing to go with.  It’s cold and I’m not prepared for spring attire.  I want to stay cozy, delve deep under the quilted covers and remain firmly planted in my fuzzy, flannel pj bottoms.  

I think it’s the same feeling I get when God reveals a new prophetic word over my life.  The excitement is there, it wells up inside me but it seems too far away from the moment I’m living in to grasp it. I’m not sure how to wear it, balancing the climate of now.  It’s hard to embrace what I don’t comprehend and I would feel safer to stay where I’m at.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.  Sometimes the season changes before the weather catches up with it and it’s time to put away the heavy coats, boots and leggings that bind us.  It’s time to say goodbye to dead leaves strewn around the yard and notice the little grass growths underneath.  It’s time to look past the wind and the rain and perceive the new life it brings to the rose bushes and daffodils.  It’s an opportunity to reach out for what we can trust will be there.  Spring comes every year; God’s word never returns void.  There’s a brilliance in the sun today belying the chill of the air and I’m ready for winter to be over.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.  I think I’ll take the Word, my Call, from the One who rose out of His grave for me, and run.  Arms outstretched.  At the ready.  Not looking back but racing straight ahead.  Without fear and with anticipation that more will come to the knowledge of His Saving Grace because of it.  Spring has sprung in my heart and with it the birth of promise!