Dreading Easter

I don’t want to do Easter.

Don’t freak out on me. I rejoice that Jesus has risen from the dead. On Sunday morning, I will declare, “He is risen! He is risen indeed!” This is an historic fact: Jesus died for sinners, taking all our guilt to the grave. Three days later, Jesus’s heart physically started beating again, and he physically rose from the dead. This is a miracle that gives me life.

My issue isn’t what Jesus did.

My issue is I don’t want to smile and shout.

One of the things that triggers my depression is being with people too much, and this Lent, this buildup to Easter, I have been with people… a lot. This morning as I look ahead at Holy Week, I see a lot of time with people. Already I am worn out. Already the idea of being with people makes me nauseous. As I thought about standing and being with all those people… I started crying. Seriously. My depression does not find joy in shouting with the multitude in the house of the Lord.

And it’s not that I hate people. These are the people God has called me to serve. They are dear to me. The problem isn’t the people.

The problem is me.

I don’t want a loud, rambunctious Easter celebration crowded with smiling people. I don’t want the noise. Already I feel the depression pulling at me, made worse by me not being capable of self-care when there are so many things that must be done for Holy Week.

I don’t want loud Easter.

And what is amazing is that what I associate with Easter celebrations – the crowds at church, the musicians belting out praise, all the activities – none of that is Easter.

Easter is an empty tomb.

Think about what Mary experienced that Sunday:

On Friday she watched her closest friend, her Lord, be brutally executed. She sat watching for hours as his breathing became more and more labored. Could she look away? No. If she looked away, she might miss his last breath. She stood at a distance, scared to watch, not able to look away. She cowered as the sun stopped shining. She heard so many people laughing at his pain.

And then he died.

The man who accepted her died. The man who welcomed her died. The man who chose her died. Her peace was taken from her.

And she doesn’t get the chance to slow down. The next day was Passover, a huge holiday, and we’re told she observed the Passover. That’s not a day of rest for a woman in that culture; it’s making food and making sure all the traditions were kept. No rest.

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And Sunday morning, finally she could go to the tomb, finally she could go to her Lord’s body and show him the respect he should have been shown.

When she gets to the tomb, she sees a nightmare made worse: The tomb is empty. Someone has desecrated her Lord’s body. Someone has come and stolen him.

Mary breaks.

There are angels there asking why she’s looking for the living among the dead. They don’t understand her grief. She doesn’t understand their joy.

And then, Jesus is there with her.

He’s not there with a crowd cheering her on, telling Mary she should be happy. There’s no choir she can hear singing praises. There’s no busyness.

It is just Jesus and Mary, alone, and Mary crying out in relief.

It’s over.

The nightmare is over.

Jesus is alive.

And with Easter comes tears. Death has been destroyed. Do you hear the muted weeping? Do you hear the quiet, as there are no words, but two friends reunited in silence?

This is the Easter I long for. Quiet relief. Acceptance by the Savior who rescued me and rose again so I, too, escape death.

Easter morning will come soon enough. And I will rejoice on that day. I will smile, and it will not be a faked smile. I know myself well enough to know that. But today, I don’t look forward to it.

If you have depression, know: You are enough, even if your desired expression of joy doesn’t seem to match anyone else’s. You are loved by Jesus. He died for you, and he lives for you. Celebrate this Sunday: Jesus is risen!

If you don’t have depression, see if you can make space for those whose expression of joy might be different than yours. Don’t demand that everyone smile or shout. Joy can be quiet, too.

And for all of you this Holy Week, marvel that whether you have depression or you are broken by this world in another way, Jesus knew your brokenness and chose to be broken for you. And when Easter arrives, know that your Savior still lives… for you.