Easter After Deconstruction (Finding Hope Again)

There’s a word that comes around every year this time: Resurrection. 

It used to mean something to me, deep in my bones. Every Easter, my church would put on this massive production. Picture: Hundreds of people on stage, full costumes, an enormous set. There was even an earthquake machine, this deep, rumbling sound that would shake the entire sanctuary as the stone was rolled away! And then Jesus would come down the center aisle on a white Arabian horse. The whole room would rise to their feet, singing “Hosanna.” It was breathtaking. Talk about feeling that heightened sense of goosebumps and connection. I felt it all!

That's little me in our annual Easter play (aren't I so cute?! 😬)

I was always in the cast until I went to college, and I even got to sing a solo to Jesus once. It was the highlight of my year. The rehearsals, the performances, the sense of community...all of it felt amazing. Especially watching Jesus come down that aisle on the horse, I would feel this overwhelming sense of hope rise in me.

I remember the feeling so clearly, like I had the power of the creator of the universe at my disposal, like everything hard in my life was going to eventually be okay. It was comforting in a way that’s hard to put into words. There was this sense that the pain didn’t really matter in the end, that somehow it would all be redeemed, that I wouldn’t have to carry it forever.

Did Easter used to feel like this for you too?

There was anticipation, meaning, energy, a sense that something big and sacred was happening. But now it can feel kind of flat, quiet, or even a little empty. Like a holiday that used to hold so much, but doesn’t quite land anymore. There can be a strange kind of grief in that. Not because you want to go back, but because something that once gave you a lot… is just gone

When I let go of my theology that hopeful feeling went with it for a while. The narrative that once gave me so much encouragement just didn't do it for me anymore. In fact, to be honest I started looking down on others who still found comfort in the story. Wasn't it so obviously a fairy tale? I judged those who didn't see it my way as naive and immature.

(Just throwing my nasty thoughts out here on display-- eek!). 

But here’s what I’ve come to see over the last 20+ years. The longing to have a narrative of hope isn't immature. The desire for renewal, for relief, for something in us to come back to life is a human trait. It doesn't belong to a religious institution. It belongs to YOU.

What is changing is the story about where it comes from. It's not that you lost your access to hope; you just lost the version that told you it was outside of you. Because resurrection isn’t actually a one-time event, it’s a pattern.

Things fall apart, go quiet, and decay. And then, slowly, something new begins to grow from what looked like an ending. You’ve seen it happen so many times throughout your life and in nature.

What if resurrection isn’t something that happens someday down the road when the sky parts and Jesus returns? What if it’s something you get to participate in now? 

• Every time you notice a “should” and decide not to follow it.
• Every time you let yourself want something you were taught not to.
• Every time you let yourself be seen in a way that feels a little risky.
• Every time you honor a quiet inner knowing, even if it makes no sense on paper.

Those are signs of life returning. That’s something in you rising that was never meant to be buried.

So this weekend, take good care of yourself. Rest if you need to. Say no if something doesn’t feel right. Let yourself feel what you feel. Even that can be a kind of resurrection.

A few years back, one of our Happy Whole U members, Sarah, texted our group, and I wanted to share what she said because It still sticks with me to this day (and I think you might find the reframe encouraging as well):

"This is YOUR resurrection weekend. YOU have been freed from the guilt, manipulation, and the dying to self. YOU get to live again, come home to yourself, and be truly free. Take good care of yourself this Easter, especially if it feels rebellious." 

If this weekend feels a little different than it used to, a little quieter, even a little empty . . . please remember:  You’re not doing anything wrong; you’re just in a new kind of story. One where you don’t have to force meaning back into something that no longer fits. Instead, notice what is quietly coming back to life in you. Even after everything that fell apart. Even after everything that went dark.

Something in you still knows how to begin again.