The art of being resurrected 2 (too)

Sunday was Easter. The day we celebrated spring with chocolate and bunnies and some had chocolate bunnies. It’s the day that so many of us totally ended our New Year’s resolution. So, where are you at now?

Out of curiosity, did Easter mean much to you besides some ham, green bean casserole and other good holiday foods?

It meant a lot to me.

This Easter we once again did a flowering of the cross. The cross was seen as an instrument of death, one of the cruelest ways to die, like ever.

Easter for me has always signified the resurrection, my resurrection. And to tell the truth, since my grandmother’s passing, I’ve been truly meditating on the resurrection. There’s something about it that makes one wonder about living life. You’re different. You’re new. You’re alive, more alive than before.

When I was in high school, I came to Christ. It was more than a year before I started attending church. During that time, I didn’t live much differently than before I gave my life to Christ. I did the same old things. I had a mouth fouler than…well, it wasn’t good. In fact, I still to this day need to watch my mouth. Some years after I started attending a church called New Harvest and later called Paseo Community, we began a tradition that I will never forget.

We flowered the cross.

To me, it truly showed the resurrection. But it also made me think about how I showed the resurrection in my own life. The old was gone. The old symbol of death was gone. A new symbol of life stood there instead. The old in me was gone…even though it reared its ugly head from time to time. But it was dead. It had no power nor control over me. I belonged to the resurrected Lord. I knew that my faith was rooted in the fact that not only did my savior die for me to save me from my sins, from all that muckiness I lived, but he defeated even death for me, allowing me to also share in His resurrection.

Okay, so now I’m getting a bit theological and preachy.

But there is something here about living differently. About living in such a way that shows, well, shows truly who you are.

I still have my battles. I still struggle with my old way of living–a bad mouth, a bad temper, mischievousness and a biting sarcastic wit–but I now strive to live in a new way. My old way of living is like, well, old ripped up clothing that’s not even suitable for the Good Will store. Instead, it’s like getting new clothes, new Sunday bests for Easter Sunday, a day to wear new clothes, and shine brightly in pastel greens and purples.

He is risen. He is risen indeed. And I will live it because I know I will be like Him and so I live like Him now.

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