Easter Made Adulthood New

By Peter David Gross
President, The Christian Adulthood Initiative

Nobody celebrates Easter adequately. You could construct a supertall skyscraper, shoot a galaxy of fireworks off it, hire a flyby from an armada of zeppelins spouting colorful clouds, gather all the major symphonies and choirs of the world to perform, feast for fifty days, wear flowers, yodel, dance, and magically soar through a rainbow, but it still wouldn’t be adequate. Easter is too good to contain.

Christmas is almost as cool, but the only day that can come close to the day of resurrection for sheer stupendousness is the first day, when “let there be light” set everything off. When Jesus rose from the dead, he set everything off all over again. He started making everything new.

This is important, because the core of Christian adulthood comes down to living in the reality of the resurrection. And the resurrection is much, much bigger than we’re inclined to remember.

Jesus carried us, so his life is ours.

Before we get into the resurrection specifically, we need to get one thing straight. Jesus’ life, passion, death, resurrection, ascension, and current intercession weren’t just events that happened to him. He picked up humanity itself, and he carries it with him through everything he does. His humanity is our humanity. So anyone who’s human can now accept the fact that Jesus carried them with him, and that they are where he is, wherever he is.

We may live like Jesus, and be received like Jesus, and be loved like Jesus, and be royal like Jesus, because through his resurrection, he bought and adopted us, and he shared his inexhaustible inheritance with us. We may abandon ourselves to the mercy of a God who humbly accepted our humanity, and that changes everything.

Easter made you new. It offers everlastingness, childlikeness, freedom, meaningfulness, courage, and a place at the right hand of God. It’s the best day of your life, and you weren’t even born yet. Like an ark, Jesus was carrying you with him through death into an all-new life.

Jesus killed death, so we may live everlastingly.

Death was the end of life. Then, by living eternally, even after dying, Jesus gave death an end of its own. He took his dead-wood cross, the instrument of his murder, and made it the tree of life for all who will stretch out their hands and eat of his body and blood: its fruit. Through Easter, Jesus offers an everlasting adulthood.

We are not approaching a terminus; we are beginning a never-endingness. We’re able to start things that need eight thousand or eight million years to complete. We’re able to hold off on doing things (without the fear of missing out) for when we can do them while holding our incarnate Lord’s hand. We may take otherwise-insane risks for love. Knowing our death-defying glory, and the death-defying glory of our neighbors, we may wail with righteous indignation when that glory isn’t honored.

We may live like everlastingly hopeful creatures, because, through Jesus’ resurrection, we are.

Jesus routed decay, so we may have a childlike adulthood.

Jesus took our aging, corruptible flesh on himself. Then, into the dust of Jesus’ death, God breathed incorruptible life. Jesus shook off the decay that Adam and Eve had started, and made a way for every human body to lay aside its own decay and revive imperishably in resurrection. That can change the way we relate to our bodies’ decay. Through Easter, Jesus offers us a childlike adulthood.

We may recognize that every illness, weakness, ruck, and wrinkle is a sign of our youth in the context of resurrection life. They are merely the limitations of a stage of life that we will grow out of, into strength and wholeness and jollity. We may see every physical pleasure as a preface to the lavishness of incorruptible flesh. We may take any decline as a reminder to humbly play in our Papa’s world.

We may live like incorruptible creatures, because, through Jesus’ resurrection, we are.

Jesus purged sin, so we may live freely and righteously.

Like our death and decay, Jesus accepted everything that our sin deserves, and he carried us into the refining fire of his free sacrifice. We accused him of blasphemy, of usurpation, of pride, of shamelessness, of demonic enslavement, of insurrection, of gluttony. We accused him of everything we ourselves committed against God, and, though it was false, he accepted our verdict and punishment, then carried our guilty humanity into death. He wrapped his head in thorns like the ram on Mount Moriah, and took our place on the altar. By bearing our punishment, he broke our punishment, and carried us past it into righteousness of life. Sin gave way to loving, blameless sacrifice, and, for us, that can change everything. Through Easter, Jesus offers us liberated adulthood.

We may reject our history of enslavement to sin as temporary and false. We may approach the throne of grace with confidence when we fail. We may be certain that, if we sin, we aren’t ourselves, and that the one who knows us perfectly agrees with that. We may reject and reject and reject our sin, in the confidence that Jesus has raised us into his own holy glorification, and that his Spirit can and will bring us to completion.

We may live like holy and righteous creatures, because, through Jesus’ resurrection, we are.

Jesus transfigured pain, so we may live meaningfully.

In his passion and death, Jesus systematically entered every kind of pain that anyone can experience, and wove them into a terrible beauty. Though he deserved no pain, though his suffering was effectively meaningless and false on its face, he accepted it and made it into his glory and his service. He filled his dry, unwarranted pain with love until, like the third day of creation, it sprouted victory. And if even his most inconceivable pain can give way to divine romance and glory, then everything can change for us too. Our pain too, without being erased or dismissed, can be made new, can bear glorious and fitting fruit. Through Easter, Jesus offers an inviolably meaningful adulthood.

If your body is racked, if your friends have abandoned you, if your society rejects you, if you’re unjustly accused, if you dread your duty, if you’re lonely or anxious, if you’re mocked, if you’re drained, if you’re unable to feel the presence of God, then you have God as your companion. Jesus’ suffering is a companion to every kind of pain. And through his resurrection, he drags our pain after him into conquest. Because of his victory, we can be confident that every pain we witness or feel can be transformed into resurrection glory. We can know that even our most evil, causeless pains can be catapulted into meaningfulness and vocation and glory when we follow his way.

We may live like significant, dignified agents of God’s redemption, because through Jesus’ resurrection, we are.

Jesus mastered fear, so we may live courageously.

In their fear of God’s wrath, Adam and Eve hid in the garden. But Jesus went up to the garden to face and offer his fear —even sweating drops of blood— saying, “take this cup from me.” He carried us right into the very worst of our horrors, even into utter abandonment by our friends, our people, our bodies, our God, gasping, “Why have you forsaken me?” He went into it all, and he conquered. By entering even our forsakenness, he destroyed forsakeness, because even when we are forsaken, he is there. And he’s not just there, but past there, on the other side! In unblocked, unfiltered, unmediated acceptance and love. That can change every terror we face. Through Easter, Jesus offers courageous adulthood.

We may measure our dangers against our brother-king’s strength, whose power exceeded death’s. We may fear nothing more than we fear Jesus, whose mercy piloted his might. We may face anything, because we rely on the one who conquered everything. He feared death, he faced it, he died, and he overcame it. Like him, we also may suffer the things we fear, knowing that we need not be overcome. Through Jesus, who loved us, we may be more than conquerors.

We may live like courageous, safe, indomitable creatures, because through Jesus’ resurrection, we are.

Nobody celebrates Easter adequately, but we might as well try. Look to your resurrected King, who made a way for you into everlastingness, childlikeness, righteousness, freedom, meaning, and courage, and gather your spirit for the biggest belly laugh it can manage. Some years, yes, that’s much harder to manage than others. But every year, no matter what we feel or face, Jesus’ resurrection reigns over us with an everlasting laughter all its own. And every year, we’re closer to the day when our tears will be wiped away and Jesus will rejoice over us (us!) with loud singing.