An Easter With No Beach Balls

The week before had been a busy one. I found myself trying to engage with Holy Week, while being pulled in many directions—directions that were noisy and exhausting, and not holy. By the time Sunday arrived, I didn’t feel like being around people, let alone going to church. Believe me when I say it felt weird to stay home on one of the most important days of the Christian calendar. We turned on YouTube and scrolled through some live church services, but ended up turning them off. The services just hit different this year.

I began to wonder what was wrong with me. I struggled with the hype I was seeing from the different churches I’d subscribed to on YouTube. What I was seeing seemed all so mega-churchy. It reminded me of an Easter service I attended several years ago. The band was loud. The vocals were energetic, jumping and running on the platform. The drums reverberated in my chest. And then someone threw beach balls into the crowd, and everything just cut loose from there. Even though I was much younger, and perhaps more fun back then, I had to pause and wonder if this was what Resurrection Sunday should look like.

Years have passed since that very upbeat, energetic church service, and instead of looking for quieter ways to reflect on The Resurrection, I found myself on the planning side of Easter services at some large churches. I cringe thinking about it now. It was like we were trying to market Jesus as a product. From live sheep in a section of the church parking lot, to thousands of plastic easter eggs hidden on the campus lawn, to lemonade and snack stations, to energetic worship and a relevant and engaging message—every detail was thought out and executed. But for what? To boast about the metrics? (Yes, that’s really a word we use in mega church.) In simpler terms, how many new people came that day? How many tuned into YouTube, Livestream or FB Live and watched the service?

I was a believer in all of that, and now I’m shaking my head wondering why.

Yes, my spiritual journey has taken quite a turn the last couple of years. I’ve discovered a slower pace, a quiet invitation to a more contemplative way. I’ve even attended a few liturgical churches, which is so far from the evangelical church goer I once was. And you know what? I love it!

As I sat on the couch in my living room wondering why I was offended by what I was seeing, and what was happening at church services across the country, I decided to see what The Resurrection looked like on that very first Sunday.

The Gospel accounts are all over the place with their telling of the empty tomb, and who arrived when and figured out Jesus had risen. Remember, different authors with different perspectives. It’s what makes the Bible exciting and engaging. But something that I don’t see in any of the accounts is shouting, jumping up and down, running through the streets, or the disciples throwing beach balls around to celebrate. It was all pretty low key.

And as they went, Jesus met them and greeted them. And they ran to him, grasped his feet, and worshiped him. Matthew 28:9

The women fled from the tomb, trembling and bewildered, and they said nothing to anyone because they were too frightened. Mark 16:8

Then they remembered that he had said this. So they rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples—and everyone else—what had happened….But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn’t believe it. Luke 24:8-9,11

Then the disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in, and he saw and believed— for until then they still hadn’t understood the Scriptures that said Jesus must rise from the dead. Then they went home. John 20:8-10

Oh John, you crack me up—“Then they went home.”

The message of Easter Sunday is beautiful. The Gospels, no matter how the details were recorded, speak the truth of Jesus. There’s no question in my mind that Jesus died, was buried and rose from the tomb. Perhaps I have some more work to do on my critical spirit when it comes to mega church ways, but I’m good holding this story quietly in my soul, and then living out my life from the profound truth that sits deep within me.

Hallelujah! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Hallelujah!

See, no beach balls needed.