Chocolate Easter Bunnies & Forever Easter

I've been thinking a lot this week about resurrection, the universal rhythm of all things, and also about how long it used to take me to eat one of those really big chocolate rabbits when I was a kid.  

Think deeply for a moment.  

When was the last time you set out to tackle one of those really big chocolate rabbits?  I honestly can't remember when it was for me, but I do remember that after a few chunks were broken off and consumed, I felt daunted by the task of eating it.  

Eating the chocolate rabbit was a process that required a certain amount of commitment to storing it properly so it wouldn't melt.  And also keeping it from the greedy hands of those who would secretly break off pieces of it for themselves, thinking you wouldn't notice.  

I remember it taking days to finish off the rabbit, and by the end, it looked pathetic and sad, even while retaining the small smile on its face that had been imprinted at its inception.  

At that point, I imagine I must have felt bad for the thing.  Its only purpose was to be consumed bit by bit until nothing was left.  I felt no triumph in the last bite.  Easter was over.  Time to move on.  

If you are wondering if I really experienced a sense of existential dread while nibbling away at the last bits of a chocolate rabbit, I can tell you that I most likely did.  I actually thought about these kinds of things as a kid, all of which was a harbinger of things to come.  

Some might call it weird, but I prefer to think that I was already wrestling with the ultimate questions of faith, life, and the nature of God.  Also, I was slightly allergic to chocolate, so there was that as well.  

I think that at some level, most of us see Easter in the same light.  We're not sure exactly what it means, but we do feel a strange sense of loss when the celebrations end and we move from the joy and excitement of the day itself into the regular rhythms of life, worry, and questions about meaning and purpose.  

This is why it's so important for those of us who call ourselves Christians to reframe how we see the Resurrection — not as something that happened (as impossible as it might seem), but as something that happens over and over again.  

Author David Housholder once wrote: 

“If anyone or anything tries to curse or kill the Goodness at the Center of all things, it will just keep coming back to life. Forever Easter.”

I really love that line.  It speaks directly to the notion that something greater is at work around us, and that despite the dread we might feel about the circumstances we are surrounded by, there's an essential truth at the center of everything that can't be denied.  

God is still in the resurrection business, and no matter what we humans do to deny or destroy that Goodness at the Center of all things, we can't quite finish the job.  

This is good news for all of us.  Easter is forever.  The Universe around us is always dying and rising.  Just when you think things might be over, they aren't.  Giving up and giving in to despair isn't really an option because there's more on the other side of whatever endings we are facing. 

So may you live this day in defiant hope that nothing ever ends, it just begins again.  We might face hard and trying things, but the eternal, universal rhythm of dying and rising will eventually bring new life.  

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen.  

Prayer: 

God of new life and new beginnings, teach us to trust that Easter is forever.  Teach us to hold on to the hope that You are always at work, bringing back to life what we leave for dead.  Give us peace in the midst of troubled times, and the joy that comes with your mercies which are renewed every morning.  Amen.  

Reflection Questions: 

1. Where in your life do you feel like something has come to an end—and how might God be inviting you to see that place as the beginning of something new?

2. When have you experienced the “rhythm of resurrection” in your own story—moments when hope returned after loss, or life emerged from what felt finished?

3. What would it look like for you to live today with “defiant hope,” trusting that God is still bringing new life out of even the most difficult circumstances?