I have never boiled an egg in my life. It doesn’t strike me as overly complicated; I just haven’t had the occasion to do so. I am not exactly sure how colored eggs became intertwined with Easter, but I’m glad they are. Amazement always struck every Easter morning that the Easter Bunny knew exactly which eggs I had dyed and that they all ended up in my Easter basket.
My idea of Easter back then was fairly simple. A kid can’t go wrong when he’s surrounded by good food and lots of family that loves him. It was always a special day.
As an adult, Easter’s meaning and tradition has changed. For the better part of this decade I had been on a self-imposed “time-out” from God. There was some serious negotiating that needed to be done between us. There was never any open hostility, but I had effectively recalled my ambassador. Thankfully, God never recalls His.
I have to admit that God’s diplomacy is pretty dang effective. To date, I have been the one to make all of the concessions (no surprise there) and I have pretty much given up on my list of demands.
God doesn’t use strong-arm tactics in his negotiating. There are those that masquerade as part of His team that have tried to convince me otherwise. But the older I get, the more I have come to understand that God’s message is simple.
Which is why this Easter morning I am hopeful. It is the ultimate day of thanksgiving and joy. It is the symbolic embodiment of God’s message to us all:
That He gives of His love freely to ALL, no conditions. (Even if I haven’t boiled an egg).