It’s Easter morning: The hot cross buns are in the oven, your coffee has been brewed and you breathe in the crisp autumn morning. The family leave an aroma of excitement after the hunt for chocolate has swept across the quiet early morning dew. You stop to take it all in for just a few extra minutes, before you’re all wrapped up to go church. The doorbell rings. Who could be visiting right NOW, it’s Easter Sunday? You hastily pick up strewn debris before you open the door. And there he stands; it’s Jesus. Jesus has come for Easter.
MY UNREDEEMING MOMENTS
As you read, your instinctive response, as is mine, is cringe. I picture myself. My crinkling heart twists and contorts at his unexpected arrival. Beckoning him to come in, he makes his way through the tornado of candy wrapping, the kids gawking at him with chocolate smeared from ear to ear as they burst into a deluge of their morning events. A rambling packaged in: “What a lot I got, Jesus”.
I immediately squash the kids’ “disrespect” and desperately try to remind them, “Hey guys, this is the man who Easter is all about.” I clutch at whatever menial attempts I made this year, or any year for that matter, to entrench in my kids the wonder of Easter.
And as I babble and scramble, I see my unredeeming Easter unravel before me. It glares at me through the confusing stare of the kids, and a perturbed Jesus.
JESUS ISN’T SURPRISED
And before I could bury my head in shame and make a feeble attempt at explaining why I had side-lined him in my heart; Jesus started steering my elbow towards the couch, pulled out a bucket, a towel and a jug of water and began to wash my feet.
Things are taking an unexpected turn.
Because when Jesus comes for Easter, he comes expecting that our hearts are hard. Right before Jesus embarks on his Easter journey, we are told his inner thoughts and convictions:
Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
We are told that Jesus loves the disciples to the end, even though his disciples were in the world. Meaning they had no affection for Jesus; rather an affection for the world. And despite their failed allegiance, he loves them to the end.
Jesus isn’t surprised by who I am when he comes around for Easter. Jesus knew then who the disciples were, and he knows full well who we are. He came for selfish, preoccupied, traitorous people.
DON’T DENY JESUS HIS RIGHTFUL PLACE AT EASTER
8 “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”
In horror, much like Peter, I know I would be mortified if Jesus found me distracted, occupied with the worldly things of Easter and then tried to wash my feet. But this is Jesus’ rightful place as our Saviour.
He doesn’t want us to fix ourselves as fast as we can so that we might look somewhat acceptable when he walks in the door. He didn’t come that first Easter hoping that you might honour and love him in return, but with the foreknowledge that you have already forsaken the first love of Easter.
He wants us to see our darkened hearts and our sin, and allow him to wash us with his sacrifice. This is what we desperately need.
Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”
The Saviour has to wash you. Don’t deny him his rightful place.
So this Easter, as you realise how much you have been in the world, let him love you to the end.
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