I’ve been trying in vain to write about Holy Week. I came to the realization early this morning that I don’t really care about “Easter” anymore.

I don’t care how many services you have. Or how early you celebrate.

I don’t care what you wear, or care if you think it matters what I wear.

The size of your crowd or the style of your worship is not really that important. I’m not bashing whatever you do…it just doesn’t matter to me.

You can roll away the stone alone or tweet #GodIsNotDead to all your followers.

I’m not apathetic. I promise…

I’ve worshipped with you in huge mega churches. I’ve wept tears in Paul’s prison, and gazed in wonder at the beauty of the Sistine Chapel. I’ve played and sang as we remembered, and tasted the blood and the body.

This morning, all that changed.

I saw the dawn again.

I watched the day turn new as the sun began to glow behind the hills of my home. There was grey in the glory, and it wasn’t the most photo worthy of scenes.

But it was glorious anyway.

I don’t care if you think the world is six thousand years young, or six trillion.

It doesn’t matter if you think the Law is kept or fulfilled.

A sprinkle a day keeps Satan away? Or hot tub salvation machine?

You may think this world is fallen…and certainly some of our behavior lends truth to that tale.

But I still see the glory of it. I still see the Grace of renewed mercy, and the new day to remind us of His now completed task.

I don’t care if you think the heart is evil…or Holy Spirit home.

I saw the dawn…

There are many things I believe are important, but all that really matters is this:

The tomb is empty…and my heart is occupied.

May you discover the One who creates a Genesis week out of the chaos of our lives.

Happy Easter…