Lost and Found

My earliest memory of Easter has nothing to do with chocolate bunnies or pastel church dresses with flowers and frills. It is about being lost. While the details are as fuzzy as a newly hatched chick, I was at an Easter egg hunt when I realized that although countless people surrounded me, I was utterly alone. I didn’t recognize anyone.

Not yet a master of catastrophizing, I wasn’t worried about being stolen or living on the streets with other vagrant preschoolers. Instead, I felt completely paralyzed – frozen in a moment of desolation that knew no spring.

While that was my earliest memory of feeling lost, there have been many others. Each time, I remember feeling as rotten as that one egg that no one at an egg hunt can find until its stench is so strong that you begin wondering if maybe there’s a dead body lying somewhere behind the azaleas.  Only, I’m the dead body. Or, in this case, the smelly egg.

Of course, we all want to focus on our great dye jobs or the flawless shell that hides these moments of desolation. But eventually, most of us encounter seasons or circumstances that can make life feel like a daily penance. The atonement of broken promises, strained relationships, disease, and death can feel both unfair and unbearable. Without faith, and sometimes even with it, it’s easy to feel lost.

The world moves fast, often without regard to who or what gets destroyed on its tornado-like path. Despite constant digital communications, meaningful relationships feel rare, and although we see an infinite number of images daily, most of us still feel unseen.  It seems like even the savviest navigator could get lost in a world such as this.

As uncomfortable and consequential as getting lost can be, Easter directs us away from the dark, empty tomb of confusion and sorrow. The disciples must have felt inconsolably lost after Jesus’s death.  For three days amid terrible grief from losing someone they deeply loved, they had no idea where they would go. Jesus returned to show them the way — and not just for them but for you and me too. He rose and by doing so, offered us a path out of the dead ends of self-centeredness and sin.

Like a giant flare erupting in the desperate hope of rescue, Easter illuminates us to a Savior. It’s a reminder that the sting of human suffering is finite; love and faithfulness direct us to everlasting peace. In a world whose path points to every possible kind of consumption, the compassion of the cross offers an alternative route. Easter is a jubilee of epic joy that reminds us of the ultimate destination. Trumpets of triumph, lilies of exaltation, orchestras, and alleluias are a siren to wake us from apathy and despair. Easter is a mercy that reminds us that it’s not too late for a do-over; something far better awaits.

There are countless ways in which a person can be lost, but only one real way to be found. No matter how many cracks and broken paths to nowhere are in our past, we celebrate Easter knowing that all is not lost. On the contrary, in Jesus’s resurrection, the hope of humanity is found.

Hi all~ I don’t know about you, but this has felt like a particularly long Lent. Some of these sacrifices I signed on for, and some, I most assuredly did not.  Still, one thing keeps repeating in my heart — Easter awaits. Whether it’s the Lenten season of the church calendar or other seasons of suffering, we can look forward with hope. One of my favorite quotes is from Saint John Paul II: “We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song.” May you always remember that His rising makes yours possible, too. Alleluia! ~ Love, Lara