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Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Easter

When Easter Doesn’t Show Up Like You Expect

April 4, 2018 By Michelle

We awakened to snow, freezing temperatures, gray skies and gloom, and it was no April Fool’s joke. There were no short-sleeved dresses or sassy sandals this Easter Sunday. Instead I wore a turtleneck, gray tights and black boots to church. By the time we returned home, a dusting of snow had accumulated on the tree branches, shrubs, and grass, and the air was the kind of damp, penetrating cold you’d feel in a seaside town. I couldn’t wait to peel off my church clothes and slide into a pair of yoga pants, a fleece sweatshirt, and my coziest socks.

In between forkfuls of asparagus egg bake and bites of lemon muffin, I lamented the snow swirling outside the dining room window, the daffodils drooping beneath the weight of the frost, the silence outdoors as the birds tucked into their nests. “This is depressing,” I complained. “It doesn’t feel like Easter.”

Late morning blurred into afternoon. The boys played video games, emerging only for a periodic nibble of chocolate bunny. I read, napped, gazed out the window, scrolled Instagram. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Sunday, yet it also didn’t feel like Easter. I didn’t feel exuberant with joy and new life. I didn’t feel warm or springy or energized. Instead I felt vaguely disappointed.

Finally Brad and I rallied ourselves in the late afternoon to take Josie for her walk. I was reluctant to part with my afghan and cozy socks, and if it wasn’t for Josie’s pacing and her beseeching face, I wouldn’t have moved from my nest on the sofa.

We parked in the deserted lot and meandered along our usual route, letting Josie lead us down the path toward the pond.  The snow had stopped by then and though it was still cold, there was no wind and the afternoon was quiet and still.

Rounding the arborvitae, I spotted a flash of indigo – a bluebird. Then there was another, a splash of cerrulean gliding toward the white pine. And another, perched atop the park bench, its dusky peach chest a spot of sunrise amid sapphire. And then two more, swooping and diving, like cobalt jewels against the solemn sky. Hidden amid the boughs were at least another half dozen, their melodious chortles a symphony chorusing from the canopy.

We watched, mesmerized, for several minutes as the birds, unfazed by our presence, flashed their azure feathers just feet from where we stood. It was the first time I’d seen a bluebird that close and the first time I’d seen so many together at once. They were, in a word, breathtaking.

Turns out, this Easter was not found in blooming lilies, warm sunshine, or in the dramatic crescendo of Handel’s “Messiah.” Instead, this year Easter was a swoop of brilliant Caribbean blue against a palette of muted gray, a soft melody of birdsong rising from snow-dusted pines.

Because Easter didn’t come in the way I expected, I nearly missed it. I’m so grateful that, like the Emmaus travelers, like Mary Magdalene outside the empty tomb, my eyes were opened to the unexpected presence of God in my midst.

Filed Under: Easter Tagged With: Easter

Weekend One Word: Glory

March 27, 2016 By Michelle

tulipwithpsalm2

May the Glory of the Lord endure forever;
may the Lord rejoice in all his works.
(Psalm 104:32)

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!

Easter blessings and so much joy to you and your loved ones,
today and always, friends.

Love,
Michelle

Filed Under: Easter, One Word Tagged With: Easter, One Word

Let’s Choose to Offer Peace

March 26, 2016 By Michelle

irispetalinsun

Last week, as I was driving my son Rowan to soccer practice, I inched up behind a car that was making a left hand turn at the light. As the light turned yellow the car ahead of me turned left, and I followed, accelerating quickly. By the time I made the full turn, however, the light was red, and traffic in the opposite direction had to wait for me. I grimaced, knowing I had miscalculated.

It was a warm day. My window was rolled down, and as I made the turn, I saw a man in a pickup truck lean out his open window as he waited in the backed-up traffic. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he yelled, shaking his head in disgust. He was fuming, and I shrank from his angry glare as I drove past.

“Why is that man so mad at you?” Rowan asked.

I told my son the truth. “I did something wrong,” I admitted. “I ran the light when I should have waited my turn. That man is angry with me because he had to wait for me. And because he thinks I’m intentionally trying to take advantage of him.”

I’m not blaming the man in the pick-up truck. I made a mistake; I was wrong. And honestly, there have been plenty of times I’ve reacted the same way. I’ve snapped at people I didn’t know for their misjudgments. I’ve pointed out their mistakes. I’ve assumed others were intentionally trying to take advantage of me.

We do this, don’t we? Our default is to mistrust and to blame, to assume the rest of humanity is against us. We operate in self-protection mode, poised to retaliate against a world we’ve already concluded is bent on harming us.

But there is another way.

single iris petal

purple shimmering iris

peachiris

On the third day after his crucifixion, the risen Jesus appeared to ten of his disciples. They were hiding, locked behind closed doors, afraid of meeting the same fate Jesus had. Suddenly Jesus materialized out of nowhere and greeted them. “Peace be with you,” he said, showing his disciples the nail wounds in his hands and the abrasions in his side.

Just three days before, Jesus’ most loyal followers had betrayed him. His closest friends had run in the opposite direction when Jesus was arrested; they had looked the other way when Jesus was mocked and beaten. Most (with the exception of John) abandoned him at the foot of the cross. And now, the first words out of Jesus’ mouth to the men who had wronged him so grievously were, “Peace be with you.”

Not, “Why did you leave me?” Not, “What is the matter with you?” Not, “How could you have betrayed me and left me to suffer and die like that?” But, “Peace be with you.”

In spite of their mistakes, Jesus didn’t condemn his disciples, but instead gave them the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t point out their failures. He didn’t require that his disciples first confess their wrongdoing or ask him for forgiveness before he offered his peace.

Jesus simply gave them grace, no questions asked.

You and I are offered the same choice countless times a day. We can choose to accuse and to assume the worst about those who slight us. We can point our fingers in blame and conclude that everyone is intentionally aiming to harm us.

Or we can do as Jesus did. We can offer others the benefit of the doubt, even when we’ve been wronged. We can choose, like Jesus, to offer grace, love, and peace.

This post also ran today in the Lincoln Journal Star. 

Filed Under: Easter, grace Tagged With: Easter

When Easter Comes in a Thousand Unexpected Ways

April 2, 2015 By Michelle

rosebush rain

I tend to get writer’s block during the week leading up to a major Christian holiday. I feel all this pressure to say something BIG and UNIQUE and IMPORTANT, to present you with prose that does justice to the magnitude of the moment. After all, I’m a Christian writer, right? I should be able to find something lovely and profound to say about Jesus’ resurrection for heaven’s sake.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m not grateful or don’t appreciate the momentousness of the occasion. I get, as much as my limited human brain can comprehend it, the magnitude of Jesus’ sacrifice for me. If I allow myself to stop for a minute or two and think, really think, about what his road to Calgary must have been like, about what it might have felt like to be nailed, metal through tender flesh, to a slab of wood, about the fact that I — deeply flawed me — can live free, totally, utterly and completely free in his grace…I am stunned.

Maybe that’s part of my problem – maybe the idea of such an astonishing sacrifice is simply too much.

At any rate, I’m going to let myself off the hook. I’m not going to write a traditional Maundy Thursday, Good Friday or even Easter Sunday post. Instead, I’m going to tell you about a sliver of beauty I glimpsed yesterday, right smack in the middle of my ordinary day. Because honestly, I think this unexpected bit of beauty says something about Easter, too.

I was sitting at the local coffee shop across from my friend Deidra. Deidra and I have recently realized that writing can be a lonely, isolating business (why it took me more than two years to discover this, I don’t know, but it’s hit me hard these last couple of months), so we’ve agreed to meet for “working dates” at Meadowlark once or twice a month.

I was supposed to be writing a devotion for my chuch’s e-newsletter, but I was doing far more gazing into the middle distance than I was actual writing, and that’s when I saw this:

pencil sketch

Pinned among the detritus of advertisements and fliers — a missing cat, a search for a new roommate, an event long past — was a small pencil drawing sketched onto white-lined paper, one edge jagged from where it had been torn from a notebook, the other curled a bit, stiff from the arid indoor heat. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was startlingly beautiful in its own way, the woman’s languid eyes, full lips and strong brows a surprise amid the chaos of the bulletin board. I stared at the drawing for a long time, delighted by the unexpected discovery, a gem tucked among junk.

It made me happy to see that drawing, almost like it had been intended just for me. Somehow that sketch, the model’s penetrating gaze, her delicate nose, made me feel like all was right with the world. Tacked amid the world’s wants, it was, simply, an offering.

It seems to me that we are given the gift of Easter not just on one Sunday in 365 days, but in a thousand unexpected ways, in a thousand unexpected offerings, every single day.

A row of raindrops clinging to the stem of a rosebush.

A sweet compliment from the Walgreen’s clerk.

The scent of blooming magnolia wafting through an open window.

Forgiveness when we don’t deserve it.

Love when we don’t ask for it.

Beauty where we least expect to find it.

It’s true, Easter is flesh nailed to a cross and a stone rolled away from a tomb and the unearned gift of eternal life.

But look closely. You might also find Easter in a simple pencil sketch tacked to cork — unexpected beauty, unexplained gift, one of a thousand reminders of God’s abundant grace on an ordinary day.

Filed Under: Easter, gifts, grace Tagged With: Easter, gifts, small moments

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Empty-Tomb Euphoria

April 1, 2013 By Michelle

Have you ever experienced the unburdening of an unexpectedly good prognosis? Have you ever found a thing of great value that was lost? Have you ever felt the relief of a relationship reconciled? If so, you may understand some fraction of the shock and disbelief and rising euphoria that the women experienced at the tomb.

They have been at the lowest point of despair. As followers of Jesus, they had dedicated their work and mental energy and reputations to a ministry that was now in shambles. Their leader was dead, their comrades were in hiding and they came to the tomb to perform one final gesture of obedience to their Lord.

“So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes. The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, ‘Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead!'” (Luke 24:3-6)

The stone is rolled away and the body of Jesus gone. They are reminded of the story he had foretold, and the mist begins to lift. Like the recipients of any incredible news, their first impulse is to run and tell others who will share the joy. They must be stumbling and crying for joy as they run.

That is the feeling of Easter: the perpetual second chance, the journey from weight to weightlessness, from despair to joy.

Today, as you walk into your day, take a deep, grateful breath and remember that grace has made every burden manageable and temporary. We are a people of empty-tomb euphoria. Let’s let our actions reflect our joy! He is risen; we are redeemed!

Dear Lord, thank you for flooding the world with redeeming grace. By your sacrifice we are made whole and given an example of perfect love to follow. Keep the message and the feeling of Easter joy foremost in our hearts, so that we might follow in your steps and spread the joy of your message to others. Amen. 

{This Easter devotion was written by my husband, Brad. And thank *you* for grace these last two weeks as I’ve scrambled to catch up on some other writing projects. I so appreciate the wiggle-room.}

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Filed Under: Gospels, grace, Use It on Monday Tagged With: Easter, Gospel of Luke, Hear It on Sunday Use It on Monday

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Triple Type A, “make it happen” (my dad’s favorite mantra) striver and achiever (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, which tells you everything you need to know), but these days my striving looks more like sitting in silence on a park bench, my dog at my feet, as I slowly learn to let go of the false selves that have formed my identity for decades and lean toward uncovering who God created me to be.

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