Theology for Women

Forty years ago today, the Apollo 8 crew embarked on its landmark voyage to escape the earth’s gravitational field. It had never been done before, and the Americans were in a race against the Russians to do it first. 

Today, on Christmas Eve, I have posted the broadcast of these three men as they peered down at the earth for the first time. Their words are both moving and profound. They provide Christians with a great perspective on Christmas Eve as we ponder the multiple meanings of the phrase, “Let there be light.” 

I don’t care what you say, my family has THE coolest Christmas tradition ever.

It all began years ago when my brother and I came downstairs to find a ransom note hanging on the mantle in place of our stockings. Upon reading the note we learned that the Grinch had come to our house and stolen our presents. That’s right, The Grinch.

The only way to retrieve our stolen stockings was to embark on a scavenger hunt throughout the house, decoding numerous tricky clues. Only if we were clever enough to uncover the meanings of the clues would we be able to find our presents.

Over the years, this tradition has evolved. My dad burned out from coming up with so many riddles, so the scavenger hunt has now been reduced to one single puzzle. But make no mistake–these puzzles have not gotten easier as my brother and I have aged.

Two years ago we had to fill out an elaborate Christmas crossword puzzle, then we used key letters from the crossword to spell out the location of our presents. That puzzle was my dad’s finest masterpiece. The questions were all Christmas related, but they were insanely obscure–I don’t even know where he found that information! It definitely blew my seminary degree to smithereens. Nothing kicks off Christmas better than a little shame and humiliation.

Now the reason I wanted to share this tradition with you is not to brag on how cool my dad is (or to subliminally beg him to PLEASE keep on making the puzzles even though I’m 27 years old and I should have outgrown them and he’s getting tired of making them). The reason I bring it up is that there is something profoundly theological about this tradition.

I’d never noticed it before until I heard a pastor describe his own family’s practice of putting riddles on each present before they could be opened. The riddle would be a clue as to what was inside, and the pastor compared this practice to the story of Scripture.

Frequently, we tell the Christmas story as if it is a sudden break in the narrative. All the boring Old Testamenty stuff was going on, but out of nowhere Jesus bursts upon the scene and things suddenly get interesting. Because it appears at the beginning of the New Testament, we read the birth narrative as a transition point that divides the Bible in half: there’s pre-Jesus, and post-Jesus.

But in reality, the Christmas story is more like my scavenger hunt. Prior to receiving my presents there were tons of clues leading me to them. The gifts didn’t just appear out of nowhere–the puzzles were pointing me to them all along. And it is the same with the Christmas story. Jesus doesn’t just drop into the story abruptly. All over the Old Testament there are clues pointing God’s people to him. The Old Testament is just as much a part of the Christmas story as the Gospels.

From Genesis onward, we see hundreds of clues directing us to the coming of Christ. Even the title of this post comes from Isaiah 9–check it out. It is a beautiful description of Christ’s birth, only it was written hundreds of years before he was born. Indeed, the Old Testament is all building up to this moment.

And given that fact, we shouldn’t celebrate Christmas just once a year. Yes, let’s take some time to rest and celebrate, but if Scripture never stopped pointing to Christ, then neither should we. The entire story, Genesis to Revelation, is all about Jesus, and that is a model for our lives. We must celebrate Christ and point others towards him with the same consistency and fervency that we do at Christmas time.

With that in mind, I want to close with an excerpt from Isaiah 9. Read it and imagine the expectancy of the Israelites as they awaited the coming of this marvelous event:

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. –Isaiah 9:6

Merry Christmas!!

Every Christmas season Hollywood finds a new way to butcher the meaning of Christmas, and this year is no exception. My most current commercial nemesis is brought to us this year by the people at Macy’s. You may have seen it already, but for those of you who haven’t, it goes like this….. 

Did you catch that at the end? Did you notice when Martha Stewart said “it” instead of “he?” I watched it several times just to make sure that’s really what she’s saying, and it is. That’s right, Santa got neutered.

Now I have to admit that I sympathize with what the commercial is saying–what parent hasn’t broken the news to their kids that Santa doesn’t exist by coming up with some story about how Santa is more of a “spirit” or an “idea” that characterizes Christmas. Most people, Christians included, would confess that Santa is real in that sense.

(And for the record, that’s exactly what my parents told me when I learned the painful reality that Santa isn’t real, but it didn’t make me feel better one stinkin’ bit. All I remember is thinking that my parents had been lying to me my whole life. That’s a cautionary tale for you parents out there.)

But I think what bothers me about this commercial is that the person they describe in this commercial isn’t Santa, it’s Christ. Just notice the language they use–Santa is equated with love and generosity, he is the reason for childlike faith, and he lives eternally. That’s Jesus they’re talking about, not some made up fat dude in a red suit.

And that’s what bothers me about this commercial’s attempt at sentimentality. The use of the word “it” is the final nail in the coffin of Christmas time theology. We are completely divorcing all language about Christmas from its actual meaning. Hollywood desires this to be a season of “hope” and “joy” but without any sort of foundation upon which to base those sentiments.

Hope in what? Joy in what? We are a country plagued by war and immorality. Our economy is faltering and people are losing their jobs. From where are we supposed to conjure up this hope and joy? It can’t just appear out of nowhere, and it certainly isn’t going to come from Macy’s. 

That is why it’s imperative that we as Christians hold on to the meaning of Christmas. And not just “in your hearts”–that’s not enough. You need to fight for it in tangible ways. Invite your neighbors and co-workers to church with you on Christmas Eve so that they can hear the Gospel. Ask your non-Christian friends what they think about the Christmas season, or what they teach their kids about it. Think of creative ways to engage people in conversation, because it’s in our faces every day.

And that in-your-face dynamic of Christmas commercialism is the key reason why we need to fight. The predominate teachings about Christmas are coming from Hollywood commercials instead of people who actually know Christ. That’s why we need to speak up and step up. Don’t just get swept up in the Christmas time craziness and let this opportunity pass you by. Use your sphere of influence to fight against the superficial messages about Christmas so that we can reclaim its true meaning, and celebrate the source of our gifts, rather than the gifts themselves. 

I posted the following blog just after Christmas last year, but I thought it would be a great reminder as you go out and get your Christmas tree this season. Whenever you look at your tree this year, consider whether it is a picture of your spiritual life.

Even though the Christmas season ended over a month ago, our Christmas tree is still sitting in our front yard. “Why?,” you ask. Well I blame the garbage pick-up people. Apparently there was some sort of miscommunication between us.

A couple weeks after Christmas had passed, we dragged our Christmas tree to the top of our driveway so that the garbage truck could take it away the next morning. Well when my roommates and I came home the following afternoon, we arrived to a startling surprise. Not only had our tree NOT been picked up, but it had been shoved all the way down the hill of our front yard.

It was so far away from the curb that it looked like a deliberate and clear rejection. It was like they were sending us a message: “We want absolutely nothing to do with this tree. In fact, please don’t come near us again.”

Needless to say, I’m still a little hurt.

Ever since then, our tree has been sitting in our front yard untouched. No one from the road can see it because it’s so far down the hill, which is probably why we haven’t moved it–we don’t have to worry about the neighbors thinking we’re hillbillies who leave our trash in our yard. But we also haven’t moved it because we don’t really know what else to do with it. The garbage people rejected it, so where else does one turn?

(And p.s., if you know the answer to why our tree was rejected–if there’s some kind of North Carolina Christmas tree disposal law about which I am unaware–please inform me)

Now this tale of Christmas tree woe is not the point of my writing today. But seeing that sad, little Christmas tree in our front yard, which browns and withers with every passing day, reminds me of an important spiritual truth.

At the end of the day, a Christmas tree is little more than a dying tree. This reality is obvious now that my tree is dried out and brown, but we don’t really think about that fact at Christmastime when the tree is dressed up with ornaments and lights. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, I would just sit in front of our tree and stare at it because it was so beautiful, but no matter how much we dressed up that tree, we couldn’t change the reality that this tree had been cut off from its roots, and was now dying a slow and sure death.

Oftentimes, my life feels just like that beautiful Christmas tree. I have covered myself with all kinds of Christian decorations–I have a seminary degree, I’m a writer, a college minister, a Bible study leader, and a mentor to many young women. But at the end of the day, those achievements are all just decorations. They don’t really mean anything, because they do not sustain the Christian life. If you cut yourself off from the Source, then you can be doing all the activities in the world, but still be withering spiritually. And sometimes I feel like I am.

That said, I want you to ask yourself–are you a Christmas Tree Christian? Do you feel as though you are piling on decoration after decoration, yet neglecting the source of your spiritual life? Are your roots firmly planted in an ever-growing relationship with God, or have you cut your roots off by neglecting time in Scripture and prayer?

Like a dying Christmas tree, spiritual death is not readily apparent. It could take months, even years, before the lack of nourishment becomes observable. And that makes it easy for us to ignore this part of our spiritual lives. But if left unfed long enough, the death will inevitably come. Our branches will become too dried out to hold up those ornaments, so they will break and drop them. And eventually, we will look just like that poor little tree that sits in my front yard.

If you are feeling that strain on your branches, or if you feel as though your roots have been cut off from their source, take some time for yourself and God. At the end of the day, your Christian activities are nothing more than cheap ornaments, treasures on earth to be burned away. God cares little for the things that make us look glorious, but He cares greatly for a heart which glorifies Him.

Well, sort of.

Right now I’m in California visiting my brother and sister-in-law, and yesterday we all went to the pound to adopt a puppy! She is a 4 month old black lab named Isobel, “Izzy” for short, and she is awesome! Possibly the coolest dog in the world…second only to mine.

The first 24 hours of having her have been a relative walk in the park because she had minor surgery yesterday morning, and since that time she’s been completely doped up on anesthesia. She slept the entire ride home, and then plopped down on her bed as soon as we got her inside.

The only time she came close to moving at all last night was when we would sit down beside her, and she would enthusiastically wag her tail in response. But as flattering as that felt, I think the wagging was less a sign of her affection for us, and more a side effect of the drugs–if she could talk, she probably would have been saying something along the lines of “I love you, man! No really, I LOVE you!”

Needless to say, we’re not entirely sure what her personality will be like once she emerges from her drug induced haze, but so far she seems like a real sweetheart.

I have never adopted a dog from the pound, so this is all a new experience for me, and it’s been very thought provoking. We were told that about 90% of dogs that end up in the pound are there because their owners had problems with them. Maybe the dog was aggressive, or barked too much, or peed all over the place, and so on. For all of these reasons and more, pet owners cast off their animals into fate’s hands. Maybe another family will adopt them, but maybe not.

Given that background, Izzy’s story is one of tremendous fortune. Not only was she rescued from possible death, but she was delivered from a horrible environment into the lap of luxury. In the home of my brother and sister-in-law, she is now loved unconditionally, and every one of her needs is attended to. She will never have to worry about food or water or shelter, and she will always be safe. She was loved before they even met her, and the rest of her life is secure.

Well as I sat next to little Izzy this morning watching her sleep, I thought about how her short life has been a beautiful story for Easter. Hers is a tale of being unloved, rejected, and handed over to possible death. But then, due to no action of her own, she was suddenly plucked from that state and delivered into the hands of someone who loved her, but not because of anything she had done, and will take care of her for the rest of her life. It is a perfect picture of redemption in Calabasas, CA.

Now I know this analogy is bordering on cheesy–something you might find in Reader’s Digest or Chicken Soup for the Soul, but the reason I mention it is that this would have been a great Easter story, regardless of what time of the year it transpired. You see Easter is not something that happens once a year. While it is indeed important to set aside a special day to focus on Christ’s death and resurrection, the story of Easter is something that happens every day of the year. Everywhere around us, God is bringing His salvation into the world, and everywhere around us He is working out redemption. Every moment contains a sign post, an echo, a whisper of what is to come–we must simply look for it.

So yes, mourn Good Friday and celebrate Easter Sunday, but don’t stop there. God has created a world that shouts to us the goodness of His grace and love. Yesterday I found it in an L.A. County dog pound. I’m sure I will find it some place new today, if I only look.

I don’t know how this happened, but I managed to get through 27 years of life and 3 years of seminary without ever having attended an Ash Wednesday service. In fact, I didn’t even know what it was until I got to college. I was pretty confused when I saw people walking around campus with black smears on their foreheads. I remember wondering if it was some new cult that I hadn’t heard about.

Well today I experienced my first Ash Wednesday service EVER. It was thoroughly un-Baptist–lots of reciting liturgy and reading excessively long and bleak passages of Scripture. I tried to spice it up a bit by suggesting we add music to the program, but even with my guitar playing and my attempts at being upbeat, it was fairly dark.

It was also very powerful.

Let me tell you why….

If you’re like me, you may not understand what this crazy Ash Wednesday stuff is all about, so I’ll fill you in. What most people do know is that it marks the beginning of Lent, the 40 days leading up to Easter. Traditionally, Christians have used the season of Lent as a time to fast in preparation for Easter. It is a time to reflect on the gravity of our sin, and how that sin resulted in the execution of our Savior. Fasting is a way of focusing our hearts and minds on what is to come–every time we are tempted to partake of the chocolate, soda, sugar, etc. that we’ve decided to give up, we are reminded of Christ and what he sacrificed for us.

But what’s with the ashes? In the course of an Ash Wednesday service, the minister places ash on your forehead in the shape of a cross and then pronounces, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” What’s that about?

Well in my opinion, this is the coolest part about Ash Wednesday. Those ashes are not just random ashes from the minister’s fireplace–they come from a very special source. Traditionally, they are the ashes of the palm leaves used at Palm Sunday the previous year.

Do you see the meaning here?? The very palms that we used to celebrate and exalt our Savior are the same palms we use to acknowledge our tremendous unfaithfulness to him. One minute we are praising God, the next minute we are sinning against Him. That is the searing truth behind those ashes. They remind us of what it is to be human, what it is to be a sinner.

And that is why those words are spoken over us on Ash Wednesday. The ashes of our duplicity are emblazoned on our foreheads, exclaiming to us and the world: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Remember that you are human, you are fallible, you are a sinner. Think on this, meditate, grieve and repent for you stand unfaithful before a holy God.”

The hymn we sang today was entitled “What Wondrous Love Is This,” and the Episcopal campus minister noticed that one of the stanzas to the song does not appear in the Episcopal hymnal. He also had a sinking suspicion why. The words of the deleted stanza read as follows: “When I was sinking down, beneath God’s righteous frown, Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.” The minister jokingly reasoned that Episcopalians don’t like to think about God frowning, which is probably why that stanza didn’t make it into the hymnal. People don’t like to think about that kind of God, a God who detests our sin.

But that is what Ash Wednesday is all about. We are forced to confront our sin, without excuse. We have to be honest with ourselves, and honest with God. That is indeed a difficult task. But in doing so, we are blessed to discover the magnitude of God’s love. The more seriously we take this season, and the more thoroughly we consider the depths of our sin, the more profoundly we will understand the grace that has been bestowed upon us, and the more jubilantly we will rejoice upon the day of his resurrection. While Ash Wednesday is somber, it is not masochistic–it is actually a means for more fully comprehending our blessedness. If we are willing to embark on this difficult journey for the next 40 days, we will discover it is actually a gateway to fuller joy.

I hope this little Ash Wednesday lesson encourages you to embark on just such a journey.

Even though the Christmas season ended over a month ago, our Christmas tree is still sitting in our front yard. “Why?,” you ask. Well I blame the garbage pick-up people. Apparently there was some sort of miscommunication between us.

A couple weeks after Christmas had passed, we dragged our Christmas tree to the top of our driveway so that the garbage truck could take it away the next morning. Well when my roommates and I came home the following afternoon, we arrived to a startling surprise. Not only had our tree NOT been picked up, but it had been shoved all the way down the hill of our front yard. It was so far away from the curb that it looked like a deliberate and clear rejection. It was like they were sending us the message, “We want absolutely nothing to do with your tree, and we never want to come near it again.” Needless to say, I’m still a little hurt.

Ever since then, our tree has been sitting in our front yard untouched. No one from the road can see it because it’s so far down the hill, which is probably why we haven’t moved it–we don’t have to worry about the neighbors thinking we’re hillbillies who leave our trash in our yard. But we also haven’t moved it because we don’t really know what else to do with it. The garbage people rejected it, so where else does one turn?

(And p.s., if you know the answer to why our tree was rejected–if there’s some kind of North Carolina Christmas tree disposal law about which I am unaware–please inform me)

Now this tale of Christmas tree woe is not the point of my writing today. But seeing that sad, little Christmas tree in our front yard, which browns and withers with every passing day, reminds me of an important spiritual truth.

At the end of the day, a Christmas tree is little more than a tree that is dying. This reality is obvious now that my tree is dried out and brown, but we don’t think about it at Christmastime when the tree is dressed up with ornaments and lights. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, I would just sit in front of our tree and stare at it because it was so beautiful, but no matter how much we dressed up that tree, we couldn’t change the reality that this tree had been cut off from its roots, and was now dying a slow and sure death.

Oftentimes, my life feels just like that beautiful Christmas tree. I have covered myself with all kinds of Christian decorations–I have a seminary degree, I’m a writer, a college minister, a Bible study leader, and a mentor to many young women. But at the end of the day, those achievements are all just decorations. They don’t really mean anything, because they do not sustain the Christian life. If you cut yourself off from the Source, then you can be doing all the activities in the world, but still be withering spiritually. And sometimes I feel like I am.

That said, I want you to ask yourself–are you a Christmas Tree Christian? Do you feel as though you are piling on decoration after decoration, yet neglecting the source of your spiritual life? Are your roots firmly planted in an ever-growing relationship with God, or have you cut your roots off by neglecting time in Scripture and prayer?

Like a dying Christmas tree, spiritual death is not readily apparent. It could take months, even years, before the lack of nourishment becomes observable. And that makes it easy for us to ignore this part of our spiritual lives. But if left unfed long enough, the death will inevitably come. Our branches will become too dried out to hold up those ornaments, so they will break and drop them. And eventually, we will look just like that poor little tree that sits in my front yard.

If you are feeling that strain on your branches, or if you feel as though your roots have been cut off from their source, take some time for yourself and God. At the end of the day, your Christian activities are nothing more than cheap ornaments, treasures on earth to be burned away. God cares little for the things that make us look glorious, but He cares greatly for a heart which glorifies Him.

I know I’m gonna take a lot of flak for saying this, but I think many Christians give contemporary Christian music the short end of the stick. No, it is not a style that resounds with every single person, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t great value in it. What’s more, people accuse modern Christian music of having less theological depth, and while there are songs that fall into that category, not all of this genre should be categorized that way.

For instance, there is a Christmas song by Point of Grace called “Let There Be Light,” and it has helped me a great deal as I think through, prepare for, and process the Christmas season at hand. Every time I hear it I am struck by the amazing substance of its message, so I have posted it today in the hope that it will challenge you as well. Here’s an excerpt from the song that will give you the basic thrust of its teaching:

From the beginning the Father
Had a magnificent plan
Revealed through the law and the prophets
To fulfill the redemption of man
He spoke after centuries of silence
In the midst of a still, starry night
And Emmanuel came down among us
And the Father said “Let there be light”

Let there be light!
Let it shine bright
Piercing the darkness with dazzling white
Hope for the hopeless was born on that night
When God sent his Son
And said “Let there be light”

What a beautiful picture of Christmas: “Let there be light!” And how perfectly it draws together the larger narrative of God’s story on earth. In the same way that God declared “Let there be light” in Genesis 1, Christmas is a kind of creation story as well. In both Genesis and the Gospels, God pierces the darkness with a great light, and creates beauty out of nothing.

And that is what Christmas is: God re-creating that which we had destroyed with sin. After the Fall, we were just as directionless and devoid of hope as the nothingness from which God created the world. In fact, we were worse off, so it was necessary that God create anew.

That is why Scripture refers to Christians as “new creations.” God is starting over and building us into something that is entirely other than what we were before. Each new Christian life is a creation story in and of itself. And in this way, the story of God’s saving action on behalf of humanity has epic proportions far greater than Lewis or Tolkien ever could have described. The story of God’s creative work on our behalf began with the creation of the universe, and continues even today.

With each new Christian life, God is declaring to the world “Let there be light! I am making a new creation that will reflect my Son and shine like light in the darkness!” In this way, Christmas is not merely about us, about presents, or even the finite reality of Jesus in a manger. On the contrary, Christmas is one piece of a much larger Christ-story in which God tirelessly reaches out to His children in love so that we may live out this light to the world around us.

So during this Christmas season, we should remember the fitting words of Isaiah 9:2, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,on them has light shined.” When Jesus was born God declared to a dark world, “Let there be light!” That is why we celebrate.

Yes, it has come to this–it’s not even December and I’m already writing a post about Christmas. I know it’s a little early, but since the rest of the world seems to have already jumped head first into the Christmas season, it’s important that we balance the rat race of shopping and parties with some meditation on what this season is really about. With that in mind, here’s something that I’ve been thinking about as the Christmas season begins to unfold…

To profess that God became Man is not at all a neutral statement. That said, I am often struck by how casually we tell the Christmas story. Each year we go through the routine of remembering our Savior’s humble beginnings, and although the festivities and the lights add a certain dynamic of wonder to the celebration, we have nevertheless tamed this wild tale. The story might stir in us feelings of sentimentality or excitement, but we are rarely dumbfounded by it.

Yet think, for a moment, about what it is we say we believe: God, the Creator of the Universe, became a man by impregnating a virgin so that He could save all humanity from the evil of the world through this God-Man baby. I mean no irreverence, but doesn’t that sound a little crazy? Realistically, what would you do if a friend of yours approached you with the following news: “You’ll never believe this, but God came to me in the night and said that my pregnant fiancée is carrying a divine baby who will save the world!” I, personally, would run away as fast as possible, and probably stop being their friend.

Indeed, what we as Christians say we believe is more than a little off the wall. That, of course, is why we call it faith. But Christmas is a great opportunity to look at the story with fresh eyes. Had we not been born in a culture that was used to hearing the Christmas story, and had Christ’s birth not been domesticated into an annual routine, how might we have responded upon hearing this narrative for the first time?

Most likely, we would have responded in one of two ways: We would have either rejected it as pure insanity, or believed it whole-heartedly and exclaimed, “Can this good news really be true? I want to follow such a God!” Those are the only two logical choices. To respond, “I guess I can buy that,” but then continue your life unchanged is utterly nonsensical. If we do, in fact, believe that the Creator of the Universe became a human and died on the cross for us, then there is no neutral response. To believe that God loves us so radically is to be forever changed. The only people who remain unchanged by such news are those who don’t believe it, or simply don’t understand it.

So this Christmas, think about what it is you believe. If we truly believe that God became human to deliver us from a fallen world, then that is a God for whom we should cast off everything to follow. That is a God worthy of radical discipleship, adoration, and glory. To respond any other way is to misunderstand what it is we profess. We will never fully understand the heights and the depths of what God has done for us. But the more we ponder the Christmas story, the more we will be transformed by it. And when this happens, we will stop celebrating the birth of God’s son simply because it is tradition or because the marketing culture compels us, but because we are so filled with joy that we cannot help ourselves

Over the years, God has made me increasingly aware of how greatly my daily habits shape me. The more I watch popular t.v. shows with teeny tiny actresses, the more I feel insecure about my body. The more I complain about things, the harder it is for me to recognize the gifts in my life and be content. And the more time I spend thinking about my wants and my needs, the harder it is to think about others. You see we are always in the process of becoming something. When I choose to cut somone off in traffic, I take one step further toward becoming a selfish person. When I buy another piece of clothing that I don’t need, I take one step further toward becoming a vain person. And when I choose not to casually mention the A I just made on an exam to another student, I take one step further toward becoming a prideful person.

Everything we do, every moment of our day, and every choice that we make, is shaping us. It’s either shaping us into someone who models Christ, or someone who does not. That’s why I don’t like the idea that some areas of our lives are too insignificant for God, or that there are some things that God leaves up to us, so we don’t need to ask Him about it. I think that’s a risky, if not spiritually reckless, mentality. Every decision you make in which you choose to rely on yourself rather than God, no matter how small, is shaping you into the kind of person who does not need God. The next time you think, “I can make this decision on my own,” you are actively not choosing God. Remember that.

Every moment of our lives is shaping us, which is why it’s important to be intentional about each moment. Make decisions that will conform you to Christ, rather than the world. Choose paths that will cause you to depend on God, not yourself.

So what does all of this have to do with Easter? Well in the interest of forming habits that will conform us to Christ rather than the world, celebrating Easter is just such a habit. Easter is not merely an anniversary in which we come together and celebrate Christ like we might celebrate a birthday. While that element is indeed present during Holy Week, Easter is far more than that. The reason we celebrate Easter every single year, and the reason we observe Communion every single month, is that these practices actually *shape* us as Christians. Each time we choose to remember Christ at Easter or in Communion, we take one step further toward becoming people whose lives are defined by Christ’s Resurrection.

I think the Catholics really get this concept right in that they observe Communion every single day–they understand that remembering what Christ did for us on the cross is not something to merely celebrate at one’s convenience. Remembering Christ’s death and resurrection should overshadow all that we do in profound and transformative ways. So given that habits shape us so definitively, celebrating Easter and observing Communion must become ours habits. We must be remembering Christ’s death and resurrection CONSTANTLY. By practicing these habits of Easter and Communion, we are becoming the kind of people who actually live within the reality of Christ’s death and resurrection, not merely when we go to church, but when we go to class, tie our shoes, or even eat ice cream. Christ’s death and resurrection will begin to define every single thing that we do, and every breath that we take. Every time you take that bread and wine, you take one more step toward becoming a person who lives in the reality of what Christ did on the cross. That’s a habit we could all stand to have, and unlike our negative habits that shape us into worldly people, this habit will be shape us into true disciples of Christ.

So as we spend this weekend meditating on what Christ did for us, do more than merely thank God. Do more than merely remember. Pray that this event would shape you in a definitive way. Pray that it would come to define every aspect of your life. That you would not simply be a person who celebrates Easter once a year with the rest of the secular culture, but that it would determine every moment of every day. THAT is why we celebrate Easter, so I pray we can all become a kind of people who celebrate Easter as more than a holiday, but as a lifestyle.