Easter has looked very different at our house this. Both girls and I are sick with ear infections, congestion, sore throats and coughs. This means no Easter egg hunt, no big family get-togethers, no egg dying, and no wearing of pretty Easter dresses to church this morning.

My thirteen month old has had five ear infections in the last few months. They have occurred back to back, non-stop. Last night, even after getting tubes, her ears were bothering her again. When the rocking, swaying, singing, and bouncing wouldn’t calm her down, I finally put her into her crib (cue immediate wailing) and climbed in beside her. She instantly calmed down and snuggled in next to me.

I had not taken away her pain or miraculously lulled her to sleep, I had simply shown her that I would stay with her. Isn’t there something amazingly soothing about having someone present in our pain? Someone who will simply be there? The Bible tells us that this is one of our most precious promises from God- that He will never leave us. I began to think of that promise as I lay with her, in awe that I get to share a small piece of the character of God in my relationship with my own daughter.

But those thoughts were short-lived. My mind quickly turned to other things- how hard baby mattresses are, for example. Also, how I should have positioned myself more conveniently for a silent escape once she fell asleep. I finally resorted to listening closely to her breathing to determine exactly how soon I might be able to attempt said escape without waking her up.

I was finally able to slip away, feeling like I had sacrificed a good chunk of my precious sleep. When I looked at the clock, it had only been about 45 minutes. Less than an hour. As this was now technically Easter morning (although, very early Easter morning) another comparison from the Bible leaped into my mind. Another set of individuals who gave their very best sacrificial love and lasted less than an hour before falling asleep- the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. Their spirits had been willing, but their human bodies were weak. I had been feeling some companionship with Jesus in our similar displays of sacrificial love, when the characters that I was really most like in the story were the disciples, full of good intentions, but still controlled only by the demands of the flesh.

No one ever hears the Easter story and pats the disciples on the back for their efforts in the Garden of Gethsemane. Why? Because even their greatest effort at sacrificial love looks selfish and weak in comparison to the true sacrifice that Jesus made for us. We look at Easter through a human perspective. We try to fully grasp the love displayed by God the Father and Jesus the Son in that ultimate act of sacrifice. We can’t. We try to put ourselves in Jesus position and wonder how anyone could ever do what He did for us.

In our limited human capability to love it makes no sense. We try to define and describe a God who loves us so much that, while we were enemies, would give everything simply to give us the opportunity to embrace forgiveness and find life. There are no comparisons in all of history strong enough to draw any kind of parallel, even the love of a mother for her child. There is nothing else like this act of sacrificial love ever displayed in eternity. This is THE story of love!

I am overwhelmed by the depth of His love, even though I will never be able to fully grasp it. I am comforted by the promise of His presence, even though I could never match it. I have to trust that His promises are true, even though there are no other examples of a similar faithfulness present in all of existence. We could spend our whole lives discovering the depth of God’s grace, love, and mercy and only realize a fraction of its fullness.

When my daughter wakes up in the morning, she will be distressed to find that I am no longer there with her, and rightfully so. On that Easter morning, the women who visited Jesus’ tomb experienced the same distress. Why? Because we look at Easter from a human perspective. We see the emptiness of the tomb and expect it to mean what the rules of nature dictate. If something dead is missing, it must have been taken.

We forget that the God we serve doesn’t follow the rules of nature- He dictates them. In reality, the absence of Jesus’ body was far from an absence, it was presence. A presence more fully complete than the women had ever imagined possible. Instead of mourning that day, there was rejoicing.

Jesus didn’t leave the women alone to wonder in their fear and doubt. He appeared and said a single word, “Mary.” He said her name. When Jesus said just one word, Mary knew that Jesus was more than just a man- He was God. His death was more than just a death- it defeated sin. His presence in the garden by the tomb was more than just an appearance- it was the fulfillment of God’s promise of life undeserved yet abundant.

I love those moments in life when Jesus shows up in our pain and doubt and fear and simply says our name. He is present. He is faithful. He is triumphant. He is alive!

Happy Easter. May Jesus, the triumphant King, speak your name today as we are flooded by the undeniable demonstration of His sacrificial love.

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