Jelly Beans and Jesus

I just might offend you with this post. Please forgive me if I do, but I can’t hold in what’s inside of me right now. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I’m sad. The beauty of my Easter weekend has been tainted by well-meaning words. I just read a blog post by someone whose heart desires to live in the fullness of Christ. I wish this person no disrespect, but I am angry because of the words I just read.

It happens twice a year. Every Christmas and Easter, we are bombarded with how evil American commercialism is and how unspiritual we are if every moment of every day surrounding these holidays is not about Jesus. This past week plastic eggs suddenly became the symbol of all that is corrupt in this world. The words I read today told me that Easter dresses and plastic eggs take away from the true meaning of Easter, and that the money used should have gone to the poor people around the world. I didn’t buy Easter dresses for my kids. That’s not what frustrates me.

I’m frustrated because it doesn’t seem to fit my view of who Jesus is. When he walked this earth, he lived with his people. They went to parties. They ate fish. They sat on the beach. He told the spiritual people that they’d missed the point. Now don’t get me wrong, Easter is a beautiful day, and yes it is about Jesus. But so is making memories as a family. While we decorated eggs as a family, Jesus was there. While we hunted for the one egg no one could remember hiding, Jesus was there. While I ate half the mini-snickers that were supposed to go into the eggs, Jesus was there. While I fixed my four-year old’s hair with the new bow she received, telling her how much our Savior loves her, Jesus was there. He was also there when we did our devotions the week leading up to Easter. He was there when we talked about his sacrifice. He was there as the tears streamed down on Sunday morning singing “You make beautiful things out of the dust.” He was there because celebrating his resurrection means living in the fullness of our life with him. We went on a hike Sunday afternoon. That was just as spiritual as singing that morning in church. Why? Because his Presence is in me! That’s what Easter is about. He came to give us life—His life, in us.

So what do I do with what I’ve read? Do we live in excess in America? Absolutely. But I have a hard time with messages that tell us that we should stop spending and give to the starving children in Africa. You see, five years ago, we moved to Colorado and my husband couldn’t find a job. There were no jobs. We lived on food stamps. We paid our bills with credit cards. We knew how bad debt was, but we didn’t have a choice. Then my husband started a remodeling business. All those materialistic Americans who cared more about redoing their homes than the poor kept our roof over our heads. They put food on our table. I don’t know what we would have done if they hadn’t cared about getting new things for their homes. They could have chosen to give their money away. But their money saved our life.

So I live with this tension. How do I live my life as a drink offering poured out to Christ? Does hiding plastic eggs take away from his sacrifice? If so, then grace must not be as powerful as I thought. Can I sacrifice a new Easter dress to offer hope to a child living in poverty. Yes I can, and it’s actually not that difficult. It’s easy for me to give something up and write a check to a good cause. What truly requires sacrifice is taking time out of my day to talk with a hurting mom in my son’s class. It costs me something to expose my kids to “the world” in an effort to bring the love of Jesus to people hungry and thirsty for life. It’s easy for me to send money to someone I’ll never meet, but to watch a football game with a family whose values differ from ours is extremely difficult.

I’m not saying that one thing is more spiritual than another. All I’m saying is that the finger pointing needs to end. As soon as we start thinking that we are more spiritual than someone else because we give up more or do more, then we are no different from the Pharisees.

Yes, Easter is so much more than plastic eggs and chocolate bunnies. But if even we’re comparing the two, then we don’t realize just how big Jesus really is. I don’t think his invitation to grace is lessened by a few jelly beans. And who knows, maybe he can even use a jelly bean or a plastic egg to show how close he really is.

That’s the Jesus I believe in.