Happy Easter In Spite of the Pandemic

There’s no sugar-coating it. This is a different Easter. An historical Easter, in fact. But then again…isn’t every Easter “historical”?

Christ defeated death on the cross and rose from an earthly grave. Hallelujah!

Sunday, as we celebrate Christ’s defeat over the grave, instead of rejoicing together in a church building, we’ll rejoice, in spirit, in our homes.

For many, Easter will seem surreal.

Shouldn’t Easter always feel this way?

For people of faith, we base our faith on something unseen—something intangible. (Hebrews 11:1) We believe in an eternal hope—everlasting life—the promise of a better life to come. (Click-to-Tweet)

Yes, quite surreal, that.

We can’t grasp the enormity of what forever with Christ will look like.

Right now, in our earthly world, too much immediacy surrounds us.

Fear. Job loss. Change. Grief. Death and decay.

All those uncontrollable things that grip the fiber of who we are and threaten to unravel us at the seams.

And I admit. The tangible is so hard. Excruciatingly painful, at times.

This week took me to the brink of that excruciatingly painful place as I visited my daddy who turned eighty-five.

Let me back up. “Visited” isn’t the correct word. “Watched” is more appropriate.

You see, Daddy is in the latter stages of Alzheimer’s Disease, and he resides at a care facility that’s currently on lock-down, as is the norm now.

I had to wish my beloved father a “Happy Birthday” through a thick, impervious window pane. I had to see without hugging. I had to watch staff feed him his birthday dinner. (Click-to-Tweet)

Meatloaf. Mashed potatoes. Brussels sprouts. Birthday cake. All of his favorites.

Oh, friend. My heart!

My heart.

I waved and waved. I called out. I knocked on the window pane.

At one point, Daddy glanced my way. There seemed to be a brief moment of recognition. He motioned to me, as if to say, “Come on in.”

But, of course, I couldn’t.

As tears poured down my face, I said the only thing I knew to say.

“Happy Birthday, Daddy…I love you!”

And in that same moment of so much love, I hated this pandemic.

I hated Alzheimer’s.

I hated sorrow.

I hated suffering.

Where are you, God?

Do you even know how this feels?

Do you care?

My heart cracked.

Yes, my daughter. I do.

You do?

His voice—a subtle, mysterious blending of old and new—lit on my spirit.

The image of our Heavenly Father’s son on the cross reframed my focus.

Deep breath.

Of course, God knew. Knows. Cares.

And in spite of this pandemic, in spite of this time of uncertainty and adjustment, victory is within our reach. Perhaps, not here on earth. But indeed, in the supernatural realm. (Click-to-Tweet)

That’s the reality I’m clinging to.

That’s why, regardless of current events, crises, and catastrophes, I remain hopeful. That’s why, today, I will wish you a Happy Easter. Because it is happy.

Easter is the happiest promise we’ll always have.

A pandemic can’t steal, defeat, or destroy it.

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