Easter Sunday has come and gone. And on Monday I find myself wondering how to live out the reality of the resurrection in my own life. To carry that change, that joy, that eternal hope into my daily life seems daunting and difficult. I wonder though if I’ve made it harder that it has to be. Jesus died on that Good Friday. And I imagine that on Sunday morning he came back with with story to tell, with a tale of death and torture and pain, life taken away, descending to the depths and then, oh the hope, rising again. Triumphant. Exultant. If it were me I’d want to share that story. Tell everyone I know, stop them in their tracks and share my experience, share my side of it all. But Jesus did something much different. He said not a word of his experiences. He said:
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Go and tell my brothers.”
“Go and make disciples.”
“Go into all the world.”
“Peace be with you.”
“I am sending you.”
“Receive the Holy Spirit.”
“Feed my sheep.”
“You must follow me.”
Nothing he did was about him. Everything he did was about others.
If I’m to carry this resurrection life forward then I must do the same. I must be about others. Jesus invites me to a life less about me and my stuff and my issues, more about what others need. And what they need is Jesus. And they will see him in me if I’m living a life that is not all about me. Dying to myself, living for God.
This week I find myself challenged to a life that is others focused. That’s what Jesus did, and in doing so he pointed to the father. I think the best way to carry his life and death in me is to keep my eyes off of myself and stuck on others, to be more concerned about their needs, their struggles, their pain and their joys.
Because the story doesn’t end on Easter Sunday, that’s just the beginning.