The great irony is not lost on me this morning. We celebrate this glorious holiday in praise of the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who, without His great sacrifice and miraculous return, there would be no hope of an eternal life and perfect washing of sins. It is proclaimed in churches near and far this morning, "He is risen!" with the response, "He is risen indeed!"
On this very same day, we are celebrating my 'resurrection' today as well. I have spent the last 10 days in the hospital lying on my bed alternating nebulizer treatments, vital checks, IV steroids, and doctor consultations. I have worsened throughout the week to places I have not been in years. I have struggled for breath. I have struggled with despair. I have struggled with anger and frustration and fear. And today, I can stand from my bed - literally - and return home a new person.
When we accept Jesus as our Lord, we are acknowledging that we are flawed and we are unable to navigate this world alone. We are shouting out loud (or with a quiet whisper in our hearts) that we are in grave need of a re-birth. I needed, and got a re-birth so tangibly today it's uncanny. I'd stumped and frustrated the doctors once again as to my lack of response to the traditional treatments they were throwing at me. I hit many a brick wall in which I was tired of praying about this, tired of writing about this, tired of fighting for this and over all, physically tired. Period. But God never quits on us. The Easter story didn't end with the self-sacrifice of Jesus' death on the cross. The story was perfectly concluded (and continues today as a living and active relationship) with the greatest most unexplainable victory.
I am living in victory today. I'm wiped out. I'm exhausted. I'm about to take a nap that will probably last most of the day. But I have been lifted out of my hospital bed and set gently back on my feet for another day. He is risen. And capable of doing some mighty rising for us if we let Him.