This past Sunday we celebrated an empty tomb. We sang a little louder, gathered with people we love, and maybe felt something stir again that we hadn’t felt in a while. And then Monday came. The dishes are still in the sink. The news is still heavy. Your body still aches. That relationship is still strained. That prayer still feels unanswered. The world, if we’re honest, still feels broken.
So what do we do now?
Because Easter is beautiful, but Monday morning is real. It can almost feel like whiplash. We go from “He is risen!” to “Why does everything still feel like this?” And if we’re not careful, we start to wonder if Easter actually changed anything at all.
But maybe the invitation of Easter was never that everything would instantly feel fixed. Maybe it’s that something deeper has been forever changed.
The resurrection of Jesus was not the end of the story. It was the beginning of a new way to live inside the same broken world. The disciples didn’t wake up the day after Easter to a perfect life. Rome was still Rome. Injustice was still real. Fear still crept in. But something in them was now different.
Paul says it this way in Romans 8:11, “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” The same power that walked out of the grave didn’t just change history. It moved in.
So what do we do now?
We live like resurrection people in a Good Friday world. We keep showing up. We keep loving when it’s hard. We keep forgiving when it feels undeserved. We keep believing that death doesn’t get the final word, even when everything around us feels like it is shouting otherwise. We don’t deny the brokenness. We just don’t let it define the ending.
Because Easter tells us something the world never could. The worst thing is never the last thing.
So today, if the world still feels heavy, you’re not doing Easter wrong. You’re living in the tension the first followers of Jesus felt too. But don’t miss this. The tomb is still empty. And that means hope is still alive.
peace,
Nick
So what do we do now?
Because Easter is beautiful, but Monday morning is real. It can almost feel like whiplash. We go from “He is risen!” to “Why does everything still feel like this?” And if we’re not careful, we start to wonder if Easter actually changed anything at all.
But maybe the invitation of Easter was never that everything would instantly feel fixed. Maybe it’s that something deeper has been forever changed.
The resurrection of Jesus was not the end of the story. It was the beginning of a new way to live inside the same broken world. The disciples didn’t wake up the day after Easter to a perfect life. Rome was still Rome. Injustice was still real. Fear still crept in. But something in them was now different.
Paul says it this way in Romans 8:11, “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” The same power that walked out of the grave didn’t just change history. It moved in.
So what do we do now?
We live like resurrection people in a Good Friday world. We keep showing up. We keep loving when it’s hard. We keep forgiving when it feels undeserved. We keep believing that death doesn’t get the final word, even when everything around us feels like it is shouting otherwise. We don’t deny the brokenness. We just don’t let it define the ending.
Because Easter tells us something the world never could. The worst thing is never the last thing.
So today, if the world still feels heavy, you’re not doing Easter wrong. You’re living in the tension the first followers of Jesus felt too. But don’t miss this. The tomb is still empty. And that means hope is still alive.
peace,
Nick