Resurrection Monday

---

"The angel said to the women, 'Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: "He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him." Now I have told you.'"

Matthew 28:5-7

I'm not ready to let go of Easter yet. It hits me every year, but this year in particular. How can we rush past Christ's death and resurrection?

This has been a hard year for many of us, especially those of us in the D.C. area. Every day is filled with such unknown. What is going to happen with our contracts? With our jobs? To our friends and family? This isn't a political statement, simply the reality that, right or wrong, we are living in here. You can feel the despair and frustration everywhere you go, from praying with a friend at Bible Study who is expecting to lose her job any day know, to someone in tears at a coffee shop because they did just lose their job, to conversations at Worship Team rehearsal to whether or not they should take the government buy-out, to overworked and overstressed coworkers trying to prove their value. It's quite frankly exhausting.

But through all of this, there's a little voice in my soul whispering, "This is why you were put here. It was for such a time as this."

Because here's this amazing secret I carry inside my heart: the Roman government and Jewish temple religious leaders killed this man named Jesus who claimed to be the God and the savior of the world. Three days later, he rose again. He rose not to condemn the world, but to save the world. He promises hope. He promises healing. He promises justice. He promises eternal life.

This city needs this message. It has always needed this message, but maybe it is finally in a place to hear and receive it. Over 2,000 people came to my small church on Easter, so many the police threaten to shut us down if we let anymore inside. They came hungry for hope, and there is no better place to find it than in an empty tomb.

The impact of Easter doesn't end on Sunday. It spills over into Monday, onto city streets, into dirty metro stations, splashes against imposing monuments, washes over marble pillars, and overshadows every great human achievement.

I often look at Squirrel snoring on his bed by my desk as I tear my hair out trying to survive the stress of my job and think, "man, it must be good to be a dog."

No. It is good to be a human being who knows the power of the resurrection. There is nothing better.

I came to write this blog exhausted. Worn out. Having no idea what to write. But something about addressing the cross and empty tomb is like pulling the cork out of a tilted bottle of (communion) wine; it can't help but flood out in a torrent. The message is that good.