What is Easter Sunday without Family Photos?

 

It started early today. It will end late tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. The parade of family photos.

I glanced at a photo of a couple standing in front of their house. Her hand awkwardly placed on his chest, showing off her sparkly diamond ring. Both were grinning ear to ear. Dressed in their Easter Sunday best. “Happy Easter, from our family to yours!”

A photograph of a family followed. One of the kiddos was dumping an Easter basket out, another was crying, and one was preoccupied with a fistful of her Mom’s hair. The parents were trying to smile as though everything was perfect. “Happy Easter!”

There was a couple holding hands, looking at the camera with wide smiles. “Our last Easter before we’re husband and wife!”

Next was a wife with her hand resting on top of her pregnant belly, and a husband with their son on his shoulders. “The four of us would like to wish you a Happy Easter!”

Then came a picture with four generations of family members. So many smiling faces. The pride and joy on the great-grandfather’s face was evident.

New dresses. Fancy bow ties. Bunny ears. Easter egg hunts.

I didn’t know how much all of this had impacted my heart. I wasn’t fully aware of how social media had colored my view of Easter. I didn’t realize that my enjoyment of the day was so wrapped up in having people to share it with. I didn’t know how much weight I put on having photographic evidence of a day when you’re supposed to be joyful.

But I found out. I found out when my dress didn’t fit the way it did half a year ago. Depression has a way of sneaking on the pounds. I found out when I went to church and saw that it was packed, but some of my closest friends were missing. They have moved, gotten married, had babies, pulled away, started dating, or were off visiting families of their own.

I wanted to stick around and mingle. But my mom had driven me, and she had to hurry to get back home. I had suggested that we at least get photos. My church takes photographs of families and friends every year. And they upload them to Facebook. And they’re always top quality. I wanted a photo.

And when there was a mob of college students and a couple of families ahead of my mom and I, she mentioned we should just forego the photo this year. This is when I really found out just how much Easter Sunday family photos have impacted the way I celebrate Easter. I was super disappointed. This one thing that I thought would ease the sting of feeling alone in this weird season of my life – a photo to post on social media – it was tossed aside. It was deemed not that important. And I witnessed the anger rise in me. I stormed off. My mom – oh, bless her – could tell I was upset and took it back; she tried to convince me to stay. But the tears were already coming, and I felt foolish. So I kept walking.

I got in the car and thought of all the things that weren’t right about today. My mom and I were a little late and sat in the way back. I can’t move my head a certain way without tearing up from the pain in my neck and shoulder. My body image issues have definitely resurfaced. My abandonment issues are at an all time high. I’ve been reacquainted with envy. I’ve been hard-hearted, unwilling to let go of hurt, and unforgiving. My anxiety over an issue that I can’t control has been climbing. I’ve been having nightmares and not being able to sleep well for the last two weeks. There are dark circles under my eyes. I have felt so superficial recently, because it’s been too scary to dive deep. I’ve distracted myself with television and social media. I’ve poured one too many glasses of wine. I’ve tried to numb and comfort myself in this world of instant gratification – instead of sitting still in the presence of the God who almost always takes the long way.

My mom apologized. She reached out for my hand. I said that I was sorry, too. “Easter just means a lot to me.”

It’s true. But in that moment, I wasn’t being honest with her – or myself – or the Lord. In that moment, I was sad because my expectations weren’t being met. I expected a celebration. I expected the joy that others exuded in their photos. I had expected to walk away from my church family with some photographic evidence of my existence. Instead, what I got was an overwhelming awareness of my sin. I got my hopes dashed; no photo to post on social media. I got mascara smeared all over my pointlessly contoured face.

We came home and my mom and stepfather cooked the Easter meal. It was delicious, of course. It always is. But I found my heart still longing for more. I wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend, fiancé, or husband to pose next to. My hand awkwardly placed on his chest, just because. Though I admit, I have no idea why that’s a thing. If you’re newly engaged, maybe it’s to show off the ring? But if not…what does it mean? I mean it doesn’t look comfortable or natural for either party. But I could be way off base. (If you know what it’s about, please educate me!) I wondered what it would be like to start new traditions with my own family. I wondered if I’d ever have a family of my own. I remembered telling my friend on the phone just yesterday, “I’m very aware of how much more meaningful it is to share Easter with those you love.”

And then I watched a rendition of Christ’s crucifixion, burial, and resurrection on television. And I wept. Jesus. Christ. The risen King. The Messiah. He is the reason for Easter Sunday.

Easter isn’t about the beautiful family photos. Easter is about the truth and power of the resurrection of Christ. And that is for everyone. He conquered death – and offers life to all who trust in Him. A ring on your finger, a babe on your hip, a hand to hold, a friend to laugh with, a camera to pose in front of – none of these are prerequisites for partaking in this new life. It’s yours if you have a soul that recognizes its desperate need of being saved, lips that whisper, speak, or shout a confession of Jesus as Lord, and a heart that believes He has been raised from the dead. Everyone is eligible. Everyone.

Jesus willingly died a brutal death. It was a death that you and I rightly deserve. But He is gracious enough to have taken our place. And when He rose from that grave, He revealed that He has the power to do so. He is powerful enough to conquer sin and death and shame. He alone can forgive. His grace can cover us - all of us. Not one sinner who comes to Him is too dirty for Him. He cleanses. He forgives. He redeems. He loves.

When you are in Christ – you become part of a family that can’t fit into one photo. When you are in Christ – your struggles with sin just remind you that without Him, you’d be hopeless. When you are in Christ – instant gratification can be denied and you can find joy in sanctification. When you are in Christ – you are never alone and never forsaken. When you are in Christ – the Holy Spirit won’t let you stay superficial for too long. When you are in Christ – there is no condemnation. When you are in Christ – there is a reason to celebrate, and you don’t need a camera to do that.

Perhaps Jesus wants us to celebrate with Him first and foremost. Perhaps it’s for the best that my expectations are continually dashed. Perhaps the only thing I can expect is Jesus. His presence. His love. Circumstances won’t always play out the way I want them to. People will surely let me down. But the One who walked out of the tomb? He invites me to love Him, expect Him, obey Him, and serve Him, no matter who is – or who isn’t – by my side. No matter what, He always will be with me. And there is a much bigger story and picture going on. Life isn’t about me getting what I want. You’d think I’d have learned this by now. But for some reason, there is a part of me that looks around at others – and looks back on my life so far – and thinks that I deserve a husband and babies and a place of my own in which I can host gatherings to make up for the “years that the locusts have eaten.” But that’s not how this works. I don’t deserve anything. Apart from Christ, the only thing I deserve is His place on the cross. Heavy, I know. But it’s true.

It’s all grace. Anything other than death is grace. It’s a free gift. I don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. But Jesus is that good. And right now, in this season of living at home and being at that age where the majority of my friends are married or are getting married or having babies – this is His grace to me. This is a gift. Each breath I take is a gift. The forgiveness of all of my sins - past, present, and future - is an unfathomable gift. This morning at church was a gift. My mom sitting beside me, following me up to take communion, bowing her head in prayer next to me – this is such a sweet gift. The food in my belly is a gift. The ice pack on my shoulder is a gift.

I will celebrate my Savior and His amazing grace today and every day. I pray He would open my eyes more and more to the grace that surrounds and sustains me. I pray the same for you. And if you aren’t a believer of His – I implore you to investigate more. I’d love to have you as part of my eternal family - even if we never take a photograph together. And let’s live lives that are rich and full and meaningful. If you don’t get a picture, it’s okay. I don’t know everything, but something tells me all that’s documented on social media won’t matter that much when we meet Jesus face to face.

“because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. For the Scripture says, ‘Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.’ For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him. For ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’” ~ Romans 10:9-13

“For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God, I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we preach and so you believed.” ~ 1 Corinthians 15:3-11