Surrealistic Epiphanies and Easter Joy

(I am thinking of two things right now - Easter is upon us and the unreal fact that my last of six children, Eliot, is about to finish high school and leave for college. I am trying to come to grips with this, and it fills me with both joy and sadness. In trying to process this, I read something I wrote for Easter in 2001 about Eliot and Easter, and it healed my heart a bit. I hope it does the same for you.  Jim)It was a purgatorial night. The kind of night that people with small children are familiar with. At 2 o’clock in the morning, Patrick, my five-year-old came downstairs crying with an earache. Sufficiently drugged, he nestled in our bed and fell fast asleep. An hour later, having been stuck in the same position for that hour, I woke up in so much pain that I vowed if I could move, I would retreat to the couch. It took about 10 minutes to regain enough function so that I could move without fear of breaking something loose. No sooner than I had fallen asleep on the couch, I heard my three-year-old, Eliot. I looked at my watch and it was now 3 o’clock. I don’t know how the time passed, only that I woke up a little later and Eliot was on the floor in front of me, surrounded by toy bugs, Legos, and a Brio train track. He seemed to be content, so for the next couple of hours I dozed, occasionally waking up just enough to mumble something to his questions. At 5 o’clock, Teri woke me, requesting that I put him to bed. With warm milk (his drug of choice) and his teddy (his best friend and partner in all activities of life), I hauled him up the stairs and put him in bed. I assumed he would sleep which meant I would finally get some rest.At 5:30, I heard the alarming sound of a weed eater. Let me assure you, the roar of a two-cycle engine being gunned will wake you up at this time of day, since most of my neighbors don’t do yard work at this time of the morning. Coming out of deep sleep to the sound of a weed-eater in your living room at twilight can be a frightening thing. The first image of this unfolding mirage took me back to a scene from the old Texas Chain Saw Massacre movie that was popular when I was in high school years ago. You don’t forget the image of someone in a mask slinging a chainsaw over his head, gunning the engine and knowing he might use it on you. It was frightening to say the least! As reality settled in, there was Eliot, buck-naked and coming at me with his new toy weed-eater, gunning the engine and swinging it over his head. This new toy version looked and sounded just like the real thing, and has bright rotating lights on the end. The surrealistic combined effects of the naked body, the blinking lights, the roar of the engine, and coming out of a deep sleep were unnerving. Once I realized it was Eliot, I drank in the hilarious nature of the scene, with Eliot grinning like the cat that ate the canary - how could I be angry? I mean, who thinks of taking off their clothes to terrorize people at this time in the morning? I just picked him up, held him, and silently thanked God for him.It is Easter, and for some reason I can’t get this image out of my mind. In reading over the narratives of the passion of Jesus, it became clear to me why. One of the things that struck me as I read about the events leading up to the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ is how personal his dying is. For instance, the last night of Jesus’ life, when he prays, he is thinking about His people. This cross is not something abstract; it stands real and solid. The cross drips with pathos - it is clear Jesus has a treasure. Jesus will die rather than lose you. But that is not all; there are two things that utterly slay me in Jesus’ prayer in John 17. What this whole thing is about, what this suffering, this death is all about, is the sharing of joy. “I am coming to you (the Father) now, but I say these things while I am still in the world, so that they may have the full measure of my joy.” It is also about glory. “I have given them the glory that you (the Father) gave me.”Jesus’ purpose at Easter drips with passion. This is not an abstract God, fulfilling a predetermined course. This is a God whose purpose is nothing less than to crown and deck you with glory and joy. Jesus’ purpose is not to just give you some rules to follow; it is to give you a new meaning and purpose in life. In a small way, that is what every parent longs for in their child. It is not just to make children like Eliot into nice moral people, but also to shower them with life - a quality of life that pours glory and joy on them. A life that is both personal and profound and filled with meaning.I recently read in a book on parenting, that the reason most children long to leave home is not the rules but the relationship (or lack thereof). Rules won’t hold them but a relationship of love will.  I would be so bold as to suggest that the reason so many people are turned off by Christianity is because they see a passionless people merely trying not to mess it up too bad. Something is tragically wrong with this picture. If Jesus’ purpose is to give you life – an abundant life through a reconciled relationship with the Father – “joy unspeakable and full of glory”, and if this life is all at His expense, it seems to me that people ought to be rejecting Christianity not because it is too hard and oppressive but because it is too good!This is the beautiful significance of Easter. We are reminded that Christianity, unlike all other religions, is a living thing. Every other great religious leader demands you follow their teaching, which you can’t do. Only Christianity offers you not an example, but a Savior. He did everything for you! When this gets into your heart, you think on joyful little scenes like a young son with a weed-eater at the wee hours of the morning, and you realize this life is just a hazy reflection of what Jesus offers you.