He has risen...now ain't that sweet?

Today, just before lunch, I decided I would suck it up and brave making an Easter garden with my kids.  I'd been planning to do it all week.  I had lofty ideas of getting a really large, shallow planter and planting herbs in it so we could have it all spring and summer.  I was going to buy moss, find the perfect round stone to use in front of the tomb, and it was going to be a planned, meaningful project.  The garden would grace my front porch for months, and it would be a reminder to me and others of the pain and beauty of Easter.  I was going to photograph my children making it, and the end result was going to be beautiful like the ones I've seen on Pinterest.

I think you can see how this is going to go down...

So, at a quarter till noon on Good Friday, I decided to make this Easter garden.  I dumped the shoes out of the bucket on the back steps, tossed out the dead pitcher plant which was in the only small pot we had, and gathered shovels and twine.  Each kid started out at the dirt pile with a shovel in hand.  One immediately ditched his to play in the rocks, and another stepped in an ant bed and ran off in tears.  Sigh.  So, Eve and I filled the container with dirt, put the small pot for the tomb in, and started scouting the yard for moss, grass, and flowers to add to it.  By this time, Cade's ant emergency was over, and he re-joined us and offered to make the crosses.

I bit my tongue constantly to keep from blurting out "No!  That's not where the rocks go!  Those sticks are too big/small/skinny/curvy for the crosses!  Don't stuff root-less flowers down into the dirt!"  I've learned to stop expecting perfection when creating with my kids, but that doesn't seem to stop the thoughts from rolling through my head.

Finally, it was done.

Oh, no.  The handle is in a wonky position.  The brick beside the tomb is way too bulky, and you can totally see the inside of the bright yellow flower pot.  All of the flowers are weeds dug up/snatched up from the yard, and all of this is probably doing to die before Sunday.  This was not at all what I'd envisioned.  

Shhhhhh.....I told my brain.  I ran to grab my camera, and when I came back, that's when this little thrown together garden flipped my day upside down.  

My kids were picking leaves off bushes, adding sticks, picking more flowers and adding them to the garden.

I asked Eve what she was doing, and she said she was making it pretty for Jesus.  I closed my mouth and watched...and listened.  

She and Cade rolled the stone back and forth.  They continued to forage for things to add, and they cut out paper people to put at the feet of the cross and in the tomb.  They talked.  They recounted the entire week leading up to the crucifixion.  Eve talked about the nails going into his hands, and even found the significance of the railroad spike we found in the dirt we used for our garden (I mean, how awesome is that?).  I stopped shooting for a moment, and sat on the porch swing, still listening to their conversation.  Then, just as Eve "perfected" the garden, she clasped her hands, and proclaimed to the "ladies" at the foot of the cross "Jesus is dying now, but don't worry because HE HAS RISEN...now ain't that sweet?"  

Ya'll, I just about jumped off the swing and shouted "Amen!"

It was then that I was reminded that something doesn't have to be pretty to preach.  

Broken lives. Open ears.  Time.  Willing hands.  Sharing loads.  Tears.  The unadulterated Word. 

They preach.

The cross was raw.  Pretty much as raw as it gets.  The gut-wrenching pain, blood, cries...it wasn't pretty.  It wasn't comfortable, and it sure as heck wasn't Pinterest-worthy.

Then I heard Cade say something that brought on the tears.  "Eve, if you keep trying to make it pretty, you're just going to cover up the cross and the tomb where we can't see it."  

                                                       

Gulp.  This one made my stomach clench.

I can't even count the number of times I've tried to dress up the cross.  Make Jesus more attractive.  I've often gotten wrapped up in the lie that I need to portray an exciting and obliging Jesus.  To reach them, Jesus needs to be cool and relevant.  

Y'all, Jesus...the raw Jesus from the bible... is irresistible.  

Love.  Sacrifice.  Servanthood.  Honesty.  Simplicity.  Humility.  Passion.  I don't know a single person who doesn't desire and isn't drawn in by these traits.

So, this Easter, I want to encourage you to focus on raw Jesus.  Not the dressed up Jesus that has turned so many away from Christianity.  Look past the faces that have nudged you further away from Him throughout the years, and look to the face that's battered and bloody.  It's not pretty or fancy.  It isn't cluttered.  Those rivulets of blood trailing down that dirty, battered skin speak a clear, pure message that is irresistible.