Taking Easter Egg Hunts a Little Too Far

Taking Easter Egg Hunts a Little Too Far

Growing up, I remember my dad hiding Easter eggs in the best of spots.

Inside the cabinet of our piano, on top of the ceiling fan blades, nestled in the strings of our basketball hoop, and scattered across our backyard in the mesh of leaves, dirt, and lawn furniture. And my brother, sister, and I would play like sleuths, elbowing each other for the biggest eggs, and each secretly hoping for another quarter to add to our piggy bank. 

Now since my own toddler has come of age to participate in an Easter egg hunt, you can bet your bottom dollar it is on. My husband jokingly (but not so jokingly) left a stack of eggs on our kitchen table with these instructions: “So Oscar can practice. Try to get him to find the gold ones first—they have the biggest prizes.” Welcome to the inside of #andersonpartyof4.

Sometimes there are moments (like that) when it’s very easy to forget that Easter is more than just Cadbury eggs, bunnies, and brunch. As much as those marshmallow Peeps and straw bonnet hats have become holiday staples, those things have absolutely nothing to do with the origination of the first Easter 2000+ years ago. 

But how can anyone keep the focus when all we’re hearing is the megaphone of the Parks Director before the big hunt or the blaring sales of Target’s Sunday ad to ring in the holiday? How do we expect to celebrate any differently if we eat our ham in silence and shove some toddler aside so our kid can be victor of all eggs? (Because, if we’re being real, those bloodbaths that are local egg hunts just are trouble.) 

If we keep attending family gatherings without saying a word of prayer, pumping up egg hunts like it’s more important than the cross, and really, making it out to be anything other than Jesus, we are missing the mark. Missing the point.

Jesus specifically left the Gospel in the hands of His people to share with the world. Faith was never meant to be a private gift that we hoard to ourselves; Christ’s mission was always making the Good News public and sharing how eternal salvation and freedom is found only through Him.

So why haven’t I extended an invitation to church yet? Why not just tell my family about the Good News before Easter brunch? I mean, the sausage links can wait, right? But I hesitate because, if I’m being truly honest, I’m afraid of an awkward silence. I’m anxious about a “thanks, but no thanks.” I fear a little booing, a pushed back friendship, a little rejection. 

But on the other hand, I don’t want to be ashamed of a Man who died for me. I’m grateful for what Jesus did on the cross for me, and I want that same hope, freedom, and salvation for my friends and family who don’t yet have that, who don’t yet know Him. It should be worth the risk, right? And frankly, if I’m not going to share about Jesus on Easter, a holiday specifically elevating the cross and resurrection, when would I?

How about together, we try to move past the chocolate bunnies and jelly beans, and invite someone to join us for an Easter service, or if we’re really bold, sharing His saving message ourselves. Either way, let’s not let this holiday go by without a peep (aaaand perfect pun) about the Man who stuck up for us, died for us, and gave us resurrecting power in our souls today.

Happy Easter, friends!

Bend Low to Bless
When Memory Fades
 

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Julie has been inspiring children, youth, and women as a speaker, teacher, silent retreat leader, author and mentor for over 30 years. She was the Director of Women's Bible Studies at Eagle Brook Church, is a certified Spiritual Director and the owner of Heart Matters Publishing Company. She is an alumnus of Bethel University and Christos Center for Spiritual Formation. As an author she has written Bible Study Curriculum and Devotionals, including her latest collaboration, Whispers of God's Grace. Julie draws on her wide range of life experiences, humor and love of God's Word and His creation for her writing. When she is not writing, you will find her absorbed in a good book, puttering in her garden or dreaming of France. Julie and her husband, Rey, live in White Bear Lake, MN and are the parents of two grown sons, Erik and Kyle.

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