Even Easter can become stressful if we let it. Let’s encourage one another to slow down, breathe deeply, and keep our focus on the risen Savior. #YourDailyPrayer#christianforums#crosswalkforums#forums#crosswalk#faithcommunity#faithforums
Dear Lord, I have often found myself stressed like Martha. I become too concerned with all the preparations … rather than sitting at Your feet. I don’t want to get too caught up in all the Easter preparations … because they can distract me from You. Help me to be like Mary … who sat at Your feet … and did not take Your presence and nearness for granted. Please put my anxious Martha’s heart to rest. I know that You can do all things … and give me the rest that I need . Thank You, Lord, for blessing me and allowing me to rest at Your feet. In your name, Jesus, Amen. By Vivian Bricker
Easter should be a time of deep joy and reflection, but so often it becomes another source of pressure. From meal prep and family gatherings to church events and expectations, it’s easy to get caught up in the busyness and lose sight of what truly matters.
This season, let’s remember that Jesus invites us into rest—not rush. His resurrection is not a task to be managed but a gift to be received. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
What are some ways you intentionally keep your mind on the meaning of Easter instead of the stress that can come with it? How can we help each other make space to slow down and worship?
Fritz,
Actually, this may sound weird, but I actually miss the stress. We used to have a full family day; starting with sunrise service, “Up from the grave He arose, with a mighty triumph o’er His foes” ringing in our ears all day as the kids found their wicker baskets full of plastic grass, candy eggs, and chocolate bunnies. The granddaughters were all adorned in beautiful new sun dresses for disorderly family photos, and a big dinner in the afternoon was the long-awaited prize. Those frenetic holidays are in the past. Now, the grands are grown-and-gone, having moved two thousand miles away, my wife and I are left with our memories, despising the quiet, while clinging to old photos and each other. The big house seems cavernous on holidays these days; the lack of noise and rambunctious children pushes the walls out beyond reach creating a palpable vacuum. The emptiness does make more room for clarity; the quietness does catalyze remembrance. I ruminate on the stillness of the first Easter morning, “early, while it was still dark”, the starkness of a dank open tomb, the absence of a body, the calmness of the angel’s voice “Woman, why are you weeping?“, the deep guttural snoring of anesthetized soldiers. This all feels more real, closer, internal, and more intimate in a quiet house. I sense each beat of my heart; the sound of the coffee maker is all I can hear. Staring blankly at my Bible, I pull it all in, as if inhaling the scene. I worship The One who does miracles as my mind recites: “As the Father knows Me, even so I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. And other sheep I have which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they will hear My voice; and there will be one flock and one shepherd. Therefore My Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This command I have received from My Father.” Good morning, Jesus.
