Spring beckoned the seemingly dead things back to life. The sun tickled the leaves and flowers of out hiding. It has always been this season that set the following hymn chorus (based on Psalm 19) on repeat in my mind:

The heavens are telling the Glory of God.

And all Creation is showing for joy!

Come, dance in the forest,

Come, play in the field.

And sing, sing to the glory of the Lord!

In my mind and heart the parallel of spring and Easter made complete and utter sense. I remember always being moved by the knowledge that Easter was the celebration of spiritual seasons. Christ, My Savior, suffered and died. He experienced the ugliness of winter in the flesh and soul. He embodied and personified that season. He felt every small death of sin as much as the weight of every large one.

But three days later, My Savior, He Rose! He burst forth form the tomb, conquering death and sin once and for all.

On Good Friday we remember the death. I have always imagined His body like a discarded autumn leaf. Something that was once so marvelous- broken, discarded, trampled, and forgotten.

But then, on Easter morn, that leaf of a broken body returned. Bursting forth in the glory of new, restored life, and even greater glory.

While Easter has always been meaningful to me, this year, it means so much more.

Almost a year ago, my dear brother died. He died unexpectedly. He died alone. He died painfully. These things have haunted me since May. Especially the alone and painfully parts.

I have trusted God’s hand and leading throughout much of my life. While I am certainly not perfect in this or any area, I am thankful that He created me with the gifts of discernment and intuition. But, for once, I have felt truly lost. This was out of left field.

One of unbelievers’ greatest hang-ups with Christianity is the concept of suffering. Why would a good and loving God allow my brother, (who loved Him), to die alone and painfully? I can understand that argument a little more clearly after May. Through a book that we are reading in my connection group (The Reason for God by Tim Keller), God showed me that He understands it too.

You see on Good Friday God experienced first hand the pain of human death. No only did He die physically, but Keller points out:

The physical pain was nothing compared to the spiritual experience of cosmic abandonment… therefore {He} knows firsthand despair, rejection, loneliness, poverty, bereavement, torture, and imprisonment. On the cross he went beyond even the worst human suffering and experienced cosmic rejection and pain that exceeds ours as infinitely as his knowledge and power exceeds ours… So, if we embrace the Christian teaching that Jesus is God and that he went to the cross, then we have deep consolation and strength to face the brutal realties of life on earth. We can know that God is truly Immanuel– God with us– even in our worst sufferings.

God is truly Immanuel in every pain. He. Is. WITH. Us.

That Sunday at church this fresh approach to Immanuel (a word we often reserve for Christmas) was running through my mind. We were singing some unrelated song, when out of the blue I saw my brother having a seizure in his apartment. I could feel the terror his mind must have felt. But then, I saw that he was not alone. I saw my Savior, holding my withering brother. I saw Jesus holding his head, rubbing his hair, and crying over Richard’s pain. In that moment I realized that Jesus is not only Immanuel for me and my parents in our grief, but that He was Immanuel to Richard in his death. Richard was not alone; God felt that pain too. But God FELT that pain because of the death of Christ.

Because of Easter God is Immanuel in grief and in death.

Because of Easter I know that there is Joy.

Because of Easter (and Christmas, but that’s another blog post) Christ is Lord of Life- both physical and spiritual.

Because of Easter I know when I go to church tomorrow to corporately worship God’s Risen Son, I am joining my brother.

Because of Easter, Richard left his apartment WITH our Savior.

Because of Easter, Richard is rejoicing in Christ’s victory over death with an entire host of angels.

While I wish I could still have my brother with me, I know that Richard is experiencing Easter in the true fullness of new life. And I am experiencing Easter with a much deeper meaning and  a more thankful heart.

But, Richard’s birthday also has me thinking a lot about his life. He was truly someone who chose life in every circumstance. He really lived life to the fullest. I have always admired that about him.

Today, it seems that everything I do reminds me of him. From conversations about politics, to the sweet tea sitting on my counter. But, in all honestly, that’s not much different than any other day. But today, it wouldn’t be weird for me to go purchase an Ice Cream Cake (like the one in the picture above- his last birthday) even if they are 500 calories a slice.

Neither of our birthdays will ever be the same again. But I laugh because I think that’s exactly how he would want it.

How deeply and quickly I would learn the pain of being completely shocked and unprepared for something, I think I might have tried to avoid learning the lesson. So maybe I could avoid the application?