I think Jesus is actually really happy about His sacrifice & resurrection being celebrated with the best seasonal candy of all time (mini cadbury eggs). I think He probably loves this fresh new spring season, and hopes we’re picking up all of the symbolism and gifts that come with it. He’s probably not stoked about creepy bunny costumes, but I guess that’s the risk you take giving dumb mortals agency and the space to interpret freely.

Ryan loves Tiger Woods and I hate it. This is related; stick with me. In the past few years Ryan has gotten really into golf, and he loves Tiger so much. He bought a hat and a graphic tee and often wears the red polo and black pants. He was so invested in the Masters this last weekend, and LITERALLY SHED TEARS WHEN TIGER WON IT. Like???? (As if I don’t still cry over Harry Potter every 3-6 weeks.)

I respect Tiger as a skilled athlete, GOAT, whatever. But I really hate what he did to Elin Nordegren, his kids, and his fans ten years ago. I was so disappointed. I couldn’t believe this incredible competitor could be trash. I hate it so much when that happens. Infidelity. Lies. Prescription drug abuse (?). Do not bring up the NFL around me I will never stop my train of righteous indignation.

When his career tanked, I felt it was just. That’s what you get for being a bad person!!!!! Sponsors dropped him and he was just never the same. At least until this last weekend.

I was so annoyed. No. You don’t get to be back on top! You did bad things! You’re a bad person, Tiger!!! Who cares if you can swing a skinny stick at a tiny ball!!!!!

And then everyone started talking about his kids, his comeback. How, for the last 10 years, life has been a mess for him. How his kids have never seen him be truly successful. How he regrets his mistakes and has tried to heal and learn from them. Naturally it’s the kids who soften my cold, Pharisee heart.

Do we let people grow?

Do we say “This was not great. But I acknowledge that some time has passed, and trust that you are a different person today.” ?

Do we want our enemies to become their best selves, or do we want them to continue their bad choices so we can point them out, have something to hate?

Jesus died. Pharisees, politicians, the rich, a ton of people wanted and thought they got the last word. Because what is more final than death? Can’t comeback death.

PSYCH. Yes you can, if your name is Jesus the Christ.

Even people who were fence-sitting on this man’s drama probably thought “Well. No. You died. Dead. to Death. You can’t come back. No one ever has. This isn’t real. Fake news. Not possible.”

It would actually be pretty natural to reject the idea that this humble carpenter you just saw die a very gruesome public death could waltz about with just a few scars after three days. Of course you’d pause. Of course you’d question. Of course you’d say “nope.”

But while you say “it’s not possible to come back from the dead” you’re also saying “I reject this gift of resurrection and repentance that cost everything. I am choosing to look past this miracle of all miracles, the precious opportunity it gives me, the eternity I’m being granted, the pure and shining HOPE because

pEOplE dOn’T CoME bAck To lIFe!!!!”

I believe Jesus Christ was resurrected. But I refused to allow Tiger Woods to resurrect himself.

I believe Jesus Christ hung on a cross for me. But I insisted on seeing people who made mistakes hang on their own crosses until they’ve suffered sufficiently for my liking.

I believe Jesus Christ bled in Gethsemane. But I refuse to believe that annoying extended family member has become a better person since the 90s.

I believe Jesus walked freely from the tomb on a bright and shining Sunday morning.

Do I believe that people can leave their tombs of youthful ignorance, selfish choices, defensive meanness?

More importantly – Do I let them? Or do I stand outside the giant rock door, preventing the angels from rolling it away because iTs NoT pOSsIbLE.

Anxiety means that I, nearly every day, remember stupid sh*t I said and did in the past. A year ago. A week ago. In 1997. This morning. Constantly. I stress about it and can’t let it go. I CAN’T BELIEVE I WAS SO OBNOXIOUS AND EMBARRASSING AS A 15 YEAR OLD UGH HOW WILL I EVER BECOME AN ADULT OR MAKE IT UP TO EVERYONE WHO EVER INTERACTED WITH ME?!!!!!!!!

But Christ is standing there, smiling and shaking His head, reaching out a holey, holy hand. He’s outside my tomb of embarrassment, pride, stupidity, mistakes. He rolled away that giant stone – the one I could never have made budge.

Come, He says.