Easter Hope

It is early Easter morning, and my boys are bouncing around in their room, waiting to be allowed out to find some not-so-carefully-hidden chocolate eggs. My daughter is far more able to control her excitement, and is probably reading in her room. My husband is probably trying very hard to get a few more minutes of precious sleep.

Easter ~ the holiday on which we celebrate Christ’s resurrection. A day of joy, victory and hope.

These past three months may have been the most difficult of my life. Then again, they may seem like the most difficult because they are the most fresh in my mind. This week I managed to have my whole local family over for a birthday party, served homemade pizza and welcomed everyone to a neat main floor (we won’t discuss the downstairs for a week or two yet) and a clean bathroom. That is huge, folks. I spent the three following days feeling miserable again for overdoing it, but I can’t tell you how good it felt to be able to pull off one meal again.

This winter of 2008 has not been characterized by joy or victory. What may not be evident to anyone but me, however, is the fact that HOPE has been there every step of the way. It is HOPE alone that has pulled me through. Christ faced my sin and separation from His Father in order to give me that HOPE.

When the Bible talks about HOPE, it is not exactly what we know as hope today. Biblical HOPE is not looking forward to something and wanting it to happen but doubting whether it will happen (I hope it doesn’t rain on the day of the picnic). The HOPE that Christ offers us is a confident, doctrinally founded belief that God will do as He has promised.

It is this HOPE that has seen me through some very hard times. Times that became days (and weeks, no doubt) without reading my Bible, without praying, without joy and victory. Dark days with a constant undercurrent of HOPE: my confident belief that God has brought me to this place for a purpose and that He will bring me through, the knowledge that someday I will be free from this sin-cursed body and my own willful choices. This too shall pass.

And so, this morning I will go with my family to church, and celebrate the resurrection. I’m glad I am the pianist for the service, because I doubt if I’ll be able to sing the hymns. The truths of those beautiful old songs find their way straight to that raw place in me that is still struggling and not quite through yet. I may be less joyful this year, but I will be more thankful than ever: Christ’s HOPE is certainly real to me today.

Happy Easter.