When my mom asked me how the Easter service was, I told her she missed out on something beautiful.
The church, our community was gathered together, shoulder touching shoulder, in a wide circle around our living room. Our mounding plates awaited us on laps or empty spaces on nearby tables. Our voices raised louder and stronger as we joined to praise the One who entered our world some 2,000 years ago. Our hearts engaged the gospel story from Genesis to Revelation -- because what better way to celebrate Jesus' victory that to remember the story leading up to it and to eagerly hope for what comes after it? Our heads bowed as we prayed together, thanked God for what He has been doing in our lives and community, and shared the Lord's table.
Only after another round of plate filling and snack grazing, we marched up to the roof. With warm April sun baking our back and melting chocolates, we chased the kids as they chased after each other, racing to find (somewhat) hidden Easter eggs.
And somehow, we found our way back to the guitars, tambourine, and shakers. We sang, laughed, danced, and clapped for hours after the service ended.
Because if ever there was a day in history to be celebrated, this was it.
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