Last night our family began a tradition. It had nothing to do with plastic baskets or chocolate bunnies. Rather, it had every single thing to do with Him. With recognizing what the disciples didn’t while they supped with their Lord. My Lord.
Not growing up in Christian homes, Easter was saturated in only the secular. Now that I know, my years of negligence and dishonor disgust me. Simply, it does.
Just as the time when we came to know the Lord, while our son thumped and bumped around in my womb, we wanted more for our son, for our family. Just like that yearning for a closeness with God, we also want to sup with our Lord in a remembrance meal. Although not legalistic in the least, we wanted to participate in something sort of similar to His Supper.
Throughout the meal and shared Words and prayers, humility was present. Big time. Imagine, just imagine, that at the Passover with Jesus, His disciples gathered ’round and marveled and wondered about their Master and His Words and actions. What ever is He doing?! Jesus stepped outside the box of tradition by washing their feet! By calling the bread His Body! By calling the wine His blood!
How different our Passover meal was–because we know what those Words and actions meant.
We know what comes the day after The Last Supper.
We know that thorns and stripes and pain and blood and crucifixion comes.
We know He goes.
We know that He comes back in three days.
We know He is coming again–for His family of Believers.
Following is a photo story of last night. From the preparation to the supping to the reading. Images seen by the eye capture only a flicker of the vision seen by the heart…
our son eagerly helps make plates of tin
the son reads from a script
(we didn’t get worked up about using goblets, we used what we have)
it still holds His sacrifice
the father eagerly listens
(humbly, ever so humbly)
our sweet boy reads, as Another’s only Boy soon bleeds for us all
unleavened bread, warm–unlike Him, that bread had no time for Rising
(it also reminds us of Him, warm & near & alive)
our wine, His blood
all members of the family were interested in partaking
son’s barefoot, clinging to the only thing worth standing upon–a Solid Rock
(see that flap of skin hanging near his pinky toe?
we all come to stand on The Rock–wounded
and we all cling to The Cross–healed)
two candles, because we are never really alone
So, what are you going to do with that knowledge?
With that knowledge of the real meaning of Passover and Resurrection Sunday? Hold it tight like a precious gift? Or rip open the wrapper and wildly fling it onto your family, friends, neighbors, strangers… Perhaps even knocking over a few tacky plastic baskets and spilling the tattered shiny grass?
* I extend a very special thank you (and in no particular order of significance) to three lovely ladies who helped my family start a new tradition, one of deep humility and unabashed love.
– RissaRoo at These Three Remain
– Jennifer at Getting Down with Jesus
– Ann at A Holy Experience