How's that for a riveting blog title?
What do people do who live in places where dogwood trees are not blooming on Easter? Whatever date Il Papa sets for Easter, from late March to about where we are now, late April, dogwoods are always blooming here. Wouldn't seem right without them.
I showed up at my first church in mid-February, so I was the newest pastor in the community when Easter rolled around about six weeks later and was asked to preach at the community sunrise service. “Asked” is a euphemism for “ordered.” I dutifully showed up and took my place at the outdoor service with my back to a very nice pond. About six seconds into my Easter message some huge bass jumped behind me. Jesus could walk on water. I can call the fish right out of the pond.
Easter Sunday afternoons are the best nap times of the year.
Easter is not a good time to beat up the people who show up just that one Sunday. They’re already beat up. Say you’re glad they’re here. If you aren’t glad, that’s mixed up thinking. Get glad. Really.
I will not live to see an Easter any later than this year, April 24th. I’d have to make it until 2038. Probably not going to happen.
Easter egg hunts at church are great…on Saturday. I get to tell The Story to the kids. Last year a kid on the front row was transfixed. No, not by me. He had the largest, slimiest emission slowly dropping down from one nostril. Longer and longer it grew. How low can this thing go before it snaps? Why, it's a wonder of nature unfolding right before me and 75 other adults and kids. But I’m thinking, How’s this going to end? The kid was paralized, not knowing what to do except permanently cross his eyes trying to look at it. I commanded a paper towel to be brought to me, post haste. The kid fixed it. Plodder the wonder pastor. You don't learn that stuff in seminary.
Have a great Easter. He is risen indeed.