It’s Easter weekend. 

  • Bunnies
  • Flowers
  • Candy
  • Baskets
  • Church services

And, for some, a time to remember a payment made long ago and a promise we’re still waiting on.

I know that I talk a lot about suffering. I can promise, it’s not because I feel like I’ve had more than my fair share of it. I guess, perhaps, I feel like I’m making up for all of the years I served as a pastor and didn’t create the space for others- and myself- to mourn. It’s not just the death of someone we love or tragedy- the daily “little” things wear us down, and sometimes we don’t allow ourselves to acknowledge why.

The death of a dream. The cutting words from a friend. The argument with the one we love. When we find out our teenager has lied to us. All these little tears in the thin, worn fabric of our hearts, and we begin to wonder why we lash out in bitterness.

What if we could stop- in the moment of the “little” hurts- and look at the One who paid to wipe away all such things, and thank Him? I know. It’s the last thing we want to do in the moment of pain. Thankful for pain?

I once heard one of my favorite worship pastors share a very personal story of such a moment. She was driving home after visiting her doctor and finding that the tiny baby that had been growing inside of her was no longer with her. As tears flowed down her face, she felt God saying to her, “Sing….”

“No,” was her firm response. “No, I can’t do that right now. Not now.”

Still, “Sing…”

Tears still flowing, she choked out, “Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made…. I see the sky. I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughout the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee, how great thou art…how great thou art.” 

There is something so powerful that happens when we praise in pain. We are slammed by the reminder that death and destruction and pain still have freedom in our world, and then… we look up. We remind ourselves and the earth and those under the earth that a day is coming when all this suffering will stop.

The purchase has been made.

The promise has been spoken.

Over and over and over again, He reminds us that






Resurrection is coming.

But today my mother is headed into the hospital for what seems like the millionth time this year. Her health continues to fail, and no physician can seem to figure it out. All the modern medicine in the world. All the years she worked in the midst of it, and it fails her still.

And what about my sweet baby sister, who mourns the loss of her Emma still- a baby taken before she had the chance to see her eyes smile, her first steps or even her first breath? Memories and a promise are all this precious mother holds in her heart and her hands.

Resurrection?? What about now?

For now, we tear our clothes, we pour out tears, we cry out to the heavens, and

we remember.

“‘Never again will they hunger;
    never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down on them,’
    nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne
    will be their shepherd;
‘He will lead them to springs of living water.’
    ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.'” (Revelation 7:16-17)

Remember. Declare it. Sing it to the heavens, and tell it to the masses. 

This is not the end. 

There is so



Today we mourn, but we mourn with hope

Resurrection is coming.



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