Easter weekend has come and gone. It was one of the most blessed Easters my wife and I can remember. We attended church and watched our grand-daughter take part in a sharing of testimonies. The pastor gave a brief sermon pointing out that the pen is in our hand to write the story of the rest of our lives. I needed to hear that.
We had the whole family at the house for a great lunch and a lazy afternoon. I was motivated to restart my swim regime on Friday. I had gotten out of the habit. In fact, I have been in a funk for some time. I really needed a strong Easter this year. I am talking about more than a crawfish boil and a cold beer. I mean more than wearing my birthday gift new shirt to Easter service. Although I was quite stunning. It’s a deeper spiritual need than that.
It’s even more than the annual reminder that Jesus rose from the dead some 2000 years ago. It’s even more than the realization that He is alive today. It’s more personal than that. I needed a personal Easter, an individual resurrection from being pretty near dead. I needed renewed hope and purpose and motivation.
It’s too early to judge whether I have gotten what I needed. It will take time to see if there is a renewal in my attitude, an elevation in my hope and a fire in my belly. Jesus has done all that is necessary; the rest is up to me. The high places are great to get a look around and renew perspective. It’s in the valley’s however, the Mondays of life, where the battle is fought. Jesus is alive and victorious. It’s my responsibility to claim that victory: to believe, trust and put one foot in front of the other each day.
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