Easter Dresses And Egg Shells

There's something about Easter finery that gets to me each year...   Why do we dress up so much for Easter?  Really, why?

I have always inwardly chuckled at the families that show up at church week in and week in out in a hodge podge of clothing across the members, then on Easter, whoo doggy, watch out.  That family is matchy matched, coordinated, bright, festive, and a photo opp waiting to happen.   I always wonder, who are we dressing up for?  The risen Lord?  Or our own camera?  Frankly I'm not sure that the risen Lord cares a whole bunch about hair bows, seersucker and gingham.

And yet...

Last Sunday, the Futral family arrived at church at about 8:17 am looking fresh and festive for Easter.  We donned the Easter finery, springy and more or less coordinated, as we also donned smiles and joy for the day.  We had yummy brunch at church, taught Brother how to put Easter eggs in his bucket and took a ton of great pictures.  We became the stereotypical Easter family at which I had previously chuckled on an annual basis.

And yet...

Sister's adorable gingham dress and silver sandals dressed up a sweet baby girl who had just had the third out of four really rough, restless nights of fever from an ear infection.

Daddy's nice light green shirt hid a terrible ache in his back from sleeping half of the night propped up on the sofa with baby girl on his chest, since that's the only way she'd sleep.

Mama's navy and white polka dots leaned to the right a bit as she babied a hurting muscle in her side, strained from two weeks of coughing fits.  Her pink lipstick quickly wore off on the lid of the Starbucks cup she clutched as tightly as the infant in her other arm.

Brother...was just content to get chocolate all over his face and bright blue polo shirt...

On the outside, we looked fresh and festive.  On the inside, we felt like a mess.  (Well, Brother was a mess on the outside too I suppose.)  The nice clothes were just an Easter egg shell.

Jesus did not arise from the grave on the third day for polka dots and polo shirts.  He rose for the souls that wear them.  And the souls that can't afford them.  And the souls that are a mess underneath them.