In the Wait

To Be Honest Resurrection Sunday 2025 Feels Muted

I sound like a broken record, but the 2020s have been HARSH. Five years ago, we celebrated Easter at home because church services weren’t back in person. Our home church challenged us to create a front door display, crosses, I believe, so we could at least get out of the house and drive around on a cross hunt.

I remember feeling empty and confused. I worshipped my heart out, hoping it would block the deafening silence of no answers or what I suspected would be justice as answers came.

2021 was even worse. My mom had passed, and it was all a blur. All these emotions were bubbling up, and I was a broken container unable to handle it all. My body paid the price.

After that, there were Easter holidays where there were high prices for gas or a ham. Peanut butter to make my mom’s famous chocolate eggs. Justice still seemed a long way off. And then last year, I lifted my hands not so much in praise but in “Where are you, God?” because not only was Easter/Resurrection Sunday a blip on the national scene, the administration made it a priority to celebrate an agenda.

Call me Charlie Brown because I wanted to scream.

This year?

I came expecting. What a glorious, miraculous season. What a time to reflect on who Christ is and what He has done.

But instead, I felt like we are Groundhog Day, where we keep re-living the same story.

The first Holy Week started with high hopes, followed by the lowest of lows. There was darkness, confusion, depression I couldn’t even put to words. Then hope restored with an empty tomb.

It’s 2025, so if we were on the scene as the disciples, we’d be livestreaming the crucifixion. There would be podcasts interviewing Mary and John. Peter would be a hard-to-find chat because he’d be embarrassed about his “I don’t know the guy” choices.

But so much feels the same.

The darkness. The bleak feeling all hope is gone. The silence. We expected so many things, okay, I expected so many things. Justice for all we’re learning and will continue to discover about people and events we trusted and they failed us. Healing for the past five years. So many lives needlessly lost. Joy. It’s down in my heart, sure, like the song, but it’s so deep I can’t access it. And I’m scared it’s gone forever.

But.

But.

Through Good Friday and Holy Saturday, the epitome of quiet, the message gets louder as we approach Resurrection Sunday. Sunday’s coming.

Sunday, the revelation that everything God said was true. Sunday, the cloth was folded and the tomb was empty. Sunday, light breaks through. Hope reigns. Whatever the chaos, and I bet everyone on sight that first Friday was lost in it, our chaos is not forgotten. Ignored. God is moving heaven and earth. Jesus hears. He cares. And Sunday is coming.

We will one day, even if in heaven, understand the tears. Pain. Confusion. Grief. Justice will be served. Evil won’t win. I cling to that fact as hard as the woman grasped the hem of Christ’s robe.

This is a hard season. I miss fun. I miss unity. I miss seeing fruit in what I do, what I see, and what surrounds me. Everything seems like dry bones and withered plants. It’s hard to get excited about that.

I picture being in heaven, operating a library and coffee shop, ready to present one of the disciples for a speaking engagement. And whether it be Peter or John or Matthew, I imagine they’d look at me and say, “Same, girl. Same.”

It was hard for them to be excited about their lives and everything around them. They were so confused. Even when they realized Jesus was alive, there were so many questions. Rome didn’t change. And just when they enjoyed having their Friend back, He was gone. How hard that had to have been.

This Easter felt muted, like something was missing. The country is far from united. People are hurting. I keep saying that God has in motion what I call a holy equation that leads to revival. Shaking. Shift. Reset. Revival. The shaking is here. Globally. Politically. Financially. Spiritually. The shift has started. It’s hard waiting through these things, not knowing when one season ends and another begins. Some prayers I’ve prayed with a revival as an end game are 20 years old. It’s excruciating in the wait.

In the wait is where God equips us.

Jesus did it for the disciples who left the cross scared, confused, and with emotions we feel in 2025. He equipped them after His Resurrection with the Holy Spirit.

The same Holy Spirit that resides in me because I believe. The same Holy Spirit that can reside in you.

Let’s leave this Easter with expectancy. It will get better. We will have answers. We will see results. He does hear. He does equip. He does care.

As much as when He hung on the cross over two thousand years ago.

***

Although this newsletter is all about my authentic thoughts, the majority of my writing life is as a clean and wholesome small-town romance author. I also love encouraging other authors and making readers aware.

This week I wanted to share Terry Overton’s Legends of the Donut Shop. This is an older release, but if you want to find a new-to-you author, check Terry’s work out today.