It started with an Easter dress. It ended on a cross.

Growing up, Easter meant a new dress, church, and a basketful of treats. After moving out and living my own life through college and medical school, I’ve come full circle in some ways. When I got sick at 27, my parents again became my caretakers and, eventually, I returned to church. Today, as Easter morning dawns, I, 39 years old, am still looking forward to getting my Easter basket after church. And the dress? Well, that’s where there’s a snag.

Usually, for me, the dress and the Cadbury eggs are just happy little extras. Church is always the highlight of Easter Sunday and the “reason for the season,” as they say. Jesus, in rising, formed the Church, and the Church lives and breathes today only because he does. Last year, even with Covid keeping us from celebrating in person, I spent the weeks leading up to Easter immersed in song, prayer, and the Gospels, never short of inspiration to write about my Savior. This year has been… different. I don’t know why, but things are out of balance and discordant notes are scattered throughout my Easter song.

And so, we come to the dress. During the past week, as I struggled to fix my thoughts on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, my sinful nature seized its chance. What is normally a joy to me – picking a dress to celebrate Resurrection Day – turned into covetous anxiety, whispering only, me, me, me. My focus slipped and my joy snuffed out. Arguments started in my head: You already have a dress to wear – it’s practically new! Yes, well, now it’s supposed to be cold and rainy and white doesn’t work with that. Well, what about that blue one? I don’t know, it doesn’t seem very Easter-y. And so on and so forth.

My own mind became a miserable place to be whenever I thought of today. The upright part of me, the part that longs to please God, tried to speak truth, but the hungry, anxious part of me would not be ignored. Have you ever shopped for a dress less than 12 hours before Easter? The part of me that was searching stores for fulfillment and happiness was, not surprisingly, left empty. Oh, I got a dress. I’m wearing it right now – it’s pink and floating and perfect. But yesterday, I came home with more than just an outfit. I came home burdened with shame. As I climbed out of the car and carried more stuff into my closet, the contrast between my heart and my actions stood starkly black and white. It was the day before Easter, and I spent it coveting frivolous things. It was the day before Easter, and Jesus spent it in the ground. Why? Why is it so easy?

Today, in my new dress, I will stand with the worship team and play Living Hope, by Phil Wickham. Two years ago, the Holy Spirit and I had some kind of breakthrough because of this song. It was not the day I became a Christian, but it was the day I said, All in, there’s no turning back now. One of the lines of the song says, The God of Ages stepped down from glory to wear my sin and bear my shame. I’ve heard since the day I was born that Jesus bears our sin. For some reason, it took 37 years more to internalize the knowledge that Jesus bore openly on his head all the shame and dishonor I desperately hide from the world. Maybe they’re the same thing, I don’t know.

The weight of our follies as judged by the world rarely mirrors the reality of their offense to God. I say, it’s just a dress – I bet church will be full of them today. Nice clothes are not necessarily a sin. What holds Jesus to the cross is not expensive, pretty fabric, rather each covetous throb of my heart as I look, see, and want. It wasn’t just a dress. Yesterday, as I removed the tags from that pink silk, I wept. My Jesus, two days ago you died, and yesterday I thought of only myself, my ego, and my pride while you lay silent in the ground.

But Jesus is silent no more. Pink, blue, black – today they all gleam white. I’m wearing the dress because it’s Easter. It may have taken until last night, but I finally quieted my own heart enough to hear the Lord’s words. In mercy and in grace, he let me feel the depth of my base, everyday desires on the journey to this year’s Easter. The whisper of salvation means nothing to those who aren’t drowning. God pointed out my recent sin not to shame me, but to give me a new heart with which to praise his Son today. It started with a dress and led to a cross, but praise Christ Jesus the King that it did not end there. He was dead for us. He rose for us. He reigns forever. Worthy is the Lamb!

“Shower, O heavens, from above,

and let the clouds rain down righteousness;

let the earth open, that salvation and righteousness may bear fruit;

let the earth cause them both to sprout;

I the LORD have created it.”

Isaiah 45:8