I woke up in a panic yesterday morning.
Finley doesn’t have an Easter dress.
1. What kind of mom realizes the day before the Christian version of a prom that her daughter doesn’t have a new, pastel colored, multi layered frufru dress?!
2. Can we even celebrate the resurrection of Jesus in last years dress?
3. All the stores are going to be sold out of her size. Is she going to be the only one in a homemade, thrown together dress because her mom dropped the ball?
We all know Easter is about getting a new dress, wearing a gaudy hat that would make Eliza Doolittle jealous and bowling the other kids over to get the coveted prize egg at the church wide egg hunt.
Or maybe it’s about slaving over a hot stove to fix a gourmet meal for your family and making Pinterest inspired dyed eggs that end up taking all the fun out of dying eggs because Pinterest is a tool of the devil used to destroy a moms confidence one pin at a time.
I went to our community Tenebrae service last night with my head clouded by thoughts of how much I fail as a mother on making sure my kids have a “perfect” Easter.
I sit down on my pew.
I watch 16 different men and women leaders of our Faith community sit together and prepare themselves.
And as the sanctuary fills up with Christ followers from all walks of life and denominations, I am humbled.
It’s not about what my daughter wears.
It’s not about the candy filled eggs.
It’s not about making sure my children are perfectly matched and behaved.
it’s about remembering.
I listened to verse after verse of the denial, trial and death of my Jesus.
The One who had me on His mind from the beginning.
The One who watched His mother never take her eyes off her baby, who hurt when He hurt and moaned when He couldn’t.
He watched as the very man who dropped everything to follow Him, denied Him.
After each verse was read, a candle was blown out and as the church became darker and darker, my soul became heavier and heavier.
This Man, who doesn’t love me based on my performance or appearance, hung on a cross and died.
I had the privilege of singing during the service and it was all I could do to get these words out :
How deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure. That He would give His only Son, to make a wretch His treasure. How great the pain of searing loss. The Father turns His face away, as wounds which mar the Chosen One bring many sons to Glory.
Behold the Man upon the cross. My sin upon His shoulders. Ashamed I hear my mocking voice, call out among the scoffers. It was my sin that held Him there, until it was accomplished. His dying breath has brought me life, I know that it is finished.
I will not boast in anything, no gifts, no power, no wisdom. But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection! Why should I gain from His reward, I cannot give an answer. But this I know with all my heart, His wounds have paid ransom.
I want my kids to remember this Easter as the one where mom didn’t flip a gasket over the matching outfits.
Where I point them to the cross and show them it’s more about Jesus than eggs.
And where my own heart is wrecked by the amazing love that my Savior showed for me.