Reflecting on the Cross, Embracing the Resurrection

Easter has a way of inviting us to slow down. It naturally draws us into reflection, not just on what happened over 2,000 years ago, but on how those events continue to shape us today.

For me, that reflection goes back to childhood. I remember how Holy Week felt different in our home, especially because of my grandmother’s deep Catholic faith. There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Our conversations were more hushed, meals more modest, and everything seemed touched by a quiet reverence. Even as a child, I could sense that we were remembering something sacred.

Later in life, that understanding took on a more personal shape. I once played the role of Jesus in a school play that depicted the crucifixion. It was an intense role, but something unexpected happened. Around the time of rehearsals, I started developing painful boils. They caused discomfort, even bleeding, and made moving on stage difficult. On top of that, I found myself in a tough dynamic with the director, and it got to the point where I seriously considered quitting.

But somewhere in that frustration and pain, a thought began to take root. Jesus went through so much more. He endured unimaginable suffering and chose to persevere. Could I, even in this small way, choose to do the same? Of course, what I was experiencing wasn't even close to what He went through, but it gave me a deeper connection to the reality of His sacrifice.

For a long time, Easter Sunday felt like an extension of that heaviness. It became a day of mourning more than celebration, as if the best way to honor Jesus was to remain in that place of solemnity. I remember one sunrise service in particular. Everyone was quiet and reflective at first. But when the sun rose, the atmosphere shifted. People started to sing and rejoice. And it made me think—were we celebrating Christ’s resurrection, or were we just relieved that the somber part was over?

It raised a bigger question in my heart. When we focus too much on our own suffering or emotional response during this season, are we unintentionally making the story about us? It’s like when someone shares something difficult, and we respond by talking about our own similar experience. We mean to relate, but sometimes it shifts the focus away from the person who needs to be heard.

The suffering Jesus endured was unlike anything else. It wasn’t just painful—it was purposeful. As Hebrews 4:15 tells us, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” And 1 Peter 3:18 reminds us why that mattered: “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God.” 

His sinlessness was essential to His sacrifice. 

Only He could do what needed to be done.

So yes, we reflect. We remember. But we also look beyond the cross to the empty tomb. That is the heart of Easter—not just what was paid, but what was won. 1 Corinthians 15:20 declares it clearly: “But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” His resurrection isn’t just a beautiful ending to the story. It’s the turning point for all of us.

Let’s not leave Jesus on the cross. 

Let’s not dwell so much on our own guilt or sorrow that we forget what He came to give—freedom, victory, and new life. Just as the spotless lamb in Exodus pointed toward something greater, Jesus became the ultimate offering. 

Romans 6:6 puts it this way: “We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin.”

The gift of that sacrifice is still being offered to each of us today. And receiving it doesn’t require anything elaborate. It can begin with a simple, sincere prayer:

“Lord Jesus, I acknowledge You as my personal Lord and Savior. I ask for Your forgiveness for my sins, and I thank You for Your saving grace. I invite You into my life, to guide me through Your Holy Spirit and draw me closer to God the Father. Amen.”

This Easter, I hope your heart is filled not just with reverence, but with joy. Jesus is alive. The light has overcome the darkness. And because of His boundless love, we have hope that never fades.