The Daily Reality of Easter
April 1, 2001
by Ron DiCianni
Almost as if on cue, the weather on Good Friday seemed to parallel the awfulness of what happened to Jesus 2,000 years ago. The sky would cloud, and dreariness would cover me like a blanket.
As a child, I learned to treat Easter weekend like no other weekend in the year. I was to sit alone and contemplate the events of those dreadful days, and conjure up feelings that, if the truth be told, were not mine; they were the product of what someone told me I was supposed to feel.
So there I would sit, for as long as I could, trying to feel guilty.
The years have rolled on. By God's mercy, the truth of salvation embedded itself in me, and I have come to realize that resurrection morning lives in me daily. Not just the dreadful reality that I was responsible for Jesus' death, but that I am forgiven and now, daily, hold in friendship the hands that I pierced.
But patterns learned young aren't easily broken. Still I have times when I think that I need to conjure up guilty feelings to show God how sad I am at Eastertime. When that happens, I remind myself that God has changed my perspective.
Easter is a celebration for those who have repented. No, I haven't forgotten that I held the hammer and drove the nails that hung Christ on the cross. Instead, I embrace the truth that He has forgiven me and forgotten my sin. If He does not hold me guilty, then I need to believe that He has removed my sins "as far as the east is from the west."*
That includes the most heinous sin of all time, namely, nailing my Savior to a tree.