Dressed Up With Nowhere to Go

I happened to read a story written by a senior citizen who reminisced about her childhood. She was quite adept at painting a picture of her youth with words. It was fun to read her accounts of playing hide-and-seek with her siblings and cousins and the joy she experienced playing on her front porch. She wrote about a church across the street from her home. Then, suddenly, I read something she intended to be joyful, but it made me sad.

So Many Questions

This author had included a picture of her mom, dad, herself, and siblings, all dressed up and standing outside in “their Sunday best.” She wrote that her parents had a photographer come to their home around the same time each year to take a picture of them.

There was a church right across the street from them, but they never attended. It seems that the only impact the church had on the family was to dress like the parishioners once a year and immortalize the annual event with a picture.

I wondered, did the parents die unsaved? Did none of the siblings receive Jesus as Lord and Savior? Was the author ready to face eternity without the blood of Jesus covering her guilt? Did anyone from the church ever invite them to church? Did people in the congregation ever pray for the families around their church? I have so many questions, but no answers, just a deep sense of sadness.

How it was for Me

From her picture, it was exactly how my parents had us “dress up” on Easter Sunday - that’s what we called it back then. Resurrection Sunday is better. Each year, Mom would tell my sister and me that Jesus gave His very best for us, so we should meet Him in our very best. This made sense, but I hated wearing a tie, being a boy full of energy.

Anyway, when Mom corralled Dad, Sister, and me, we’d pile into our red and white 1956 Chevy Bel Air and drive into town to our church to celebrate the Good News of Christ’s resurrection with our congregation. At some point during our pastor’s Easter sermon, he would quote the verse that would become my joy and strength:

“He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” - Matthew 28:6–7

Hope

I understand now, but as a boy, I didn’t fully grasp the Good News preached on Easter Sunday; I could tell it held a power that knit our small congregation together. Mom and Dad clung to the words of the sermon. At the time, I didn’t understand how deeply Mom and Dad had been hurt as children, having both lost their mothers during the Great Depression. But it wasn’t just my parents who fed on the Good News; each (saved) “grown-up” in the congregation was filled by the Holy Spirit with strength and renewal of commitment to Christ Jesus, their Savior. However, this wasn’t true for the author of the story I read. For her, it seems that there was no Resurrection Day.

No Purpose

Paraphrasing her account, “We’d get dressed up in our Sunday best. The photographer would take our picture, and then we’d get back in our play clothes and enjoy the spring day.” Her family did not go to church, not even on Easter Sunday. Across her street were people who knew the power of “He is risen,” but she and her family were just dressed up with nowhere to go. I don’t think I’ve ever read a sadder story.

How many people do we know who are like the five virgins who had dressed in their finest but found themselves unprepared, dressed up with nowhere to go? (Matthew 25:1-13)

Good News

Whether your local church performs a cantata or your pastor preaches his Easter sermon, if we have placed our faith in Jesus, we are brothers and sisters with hope and a future because Christ Jesus has risen, just as He said.

When my wife and I were first dating, we went to a concert by “The 2nd Chapter of Acts,” and heard them sing the “Easter Song.” Enjoy!

Writing Bloopers 🥹

Writing is an adventure, occasionally punctuated by “thought” train wrecks. This time I mistakenly wrote: “At the time, I didn’t understand the depth of the pain Mom and Dad had experienced as children, both losing their mothers and lives as children during the Great Depression.” Yikes!