He Is Risen, Indeed

I started off the morning feeling a little bit hung-over and wishing I had a Cadbury Caramel Egg. I was also wondering what amazing dinner Jennifer Holland will be cooking for us this evening at the newly remodeled Holland headquarters. I am several of the seven deadly sins with legs.

My mother started the day by learning that her father is in emergency care again. As she overcame her own sadness and concern to shout her “He Is Risen!” at the end of an e-mail, I was reminded of my grandfather wanting to know “why?” Why he’s still here, why hasn’t he been taken home to glory, and why, after all the trials, does he have to endure another? But I know that my grandfather is also shouting “He Is Risen!” Still celebrating, still rejoicing, even though his body is failing and his heart is breaking. Because faith is complicated like that.

So if my mother and my grandfather can still celebrate in the face of all that, shouldn’t I celebrate too? Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief.