Encounters with the Risen Christ

I was asked to share a brief message with my church this past Sunday, a reflection of my encounters with the risen Christ as an extension of celebration this Easter season. I shared the following message that had been on my heart for a while.
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I have been a parent for 389 days. 389 days of seemingly endless diaper changes, tears, tantrums, giggles, spit ups, wiping up, and so many firsts. In 389 days, I feel like I've learned more about the heart of Christ than perhaps any other time in my life.

After the longest days, the days that I'm not sure I can make it through, the days that rub me raw and edgy, the days that Kip pushes my every button, even on these days, there's this moment. This quiet moment where I lay my child down to sleep in his crib, and I pause and just look at him. And my heart wells up like it could explode, and this little voice whispers, "I love you so much I could die."

That's a really funny response when you stop and think about it. I love you so much I could sing and shout! I love you so much I could squeeze you for days! I love you so much that I want to give you the world. But die? I love you so much I could die? That's downright illogical. There's only one place a response like that could come from. Jesus looking lovingly at his people must have whispered, "I love you so much I could die." My heart is only a small reflection of his level of love.

But I'm supposed to be here talking about my encounters with the living Christ, the Jesus who beat death and lives in our world today. In 389 days of parenting, I have learned that the living Christ is woven deeply into my son. Kip was born with a heart built for joy and love. As he has grown and developed, he has found ways to express this joy and love through his daily existence. He wakes up eager to throw his arms around the neck of anyone he sees. He finds delight in the littlest things, a shared smile or giggle, reading books, knocking down block towers, experiencing the wind and sun of nature. He brings joy to those around him, playing peek-a-boo with strangers at Target, waving bye-bye to anyone who seems to be leaving, flashing his toothy grin.

Before Jesus left earth, he promised his followers that the Spirit would be in their hearts. It is this very Spirit that builds our hearts full of joy and love. And we are reminded in Romans that where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom…freedom that my 13 month old son seems far more familiar with than I.

Kip's heart is profoundly free. He merely exists and makes an impact on the world. He does not worry if he's happy enough, if he shared enough, if he loved enough, if he's served enough people with his gift of joy. He doesn't count up his mistakes each day, those times he doesn't want to listen to his mama or climbs the stairs even though he knows full well he's not supposed to. He never wonders if his heart is good or bad. He just lives in joy and love and freedom. And I can't help but wonder if this is the sort of freedom we're all supposed to be dwelling in. The freedom of knowing we have the Spirit within us, that we will make mistakes and learn from them, and that we, just by merely existing, by freely and fully dwelling in joy and love, have an immense impact on God's world.