A saggy purple balloon hovers in my living room these days. While the foil is slowly deflating and the string is tangled and frayed, I am hesitant to remove our last visible remnant of Easter.
As resurrection Sunday drew to a close, we gathered the kids in the backyard and handed each child a balloon of a chosen color. Each color represented a piece of the gospel, a simple way to re-cap the grand story of His glory on our day of celebration.
“In the beginning, God made the earth and all that was in it…” I proclaimed as I began our Easter tale. On cue, Joshua proudly stepped forward with his shiny green balloon and lifted it toward Heaven. “God saw what He had made and it was good…”
We continued with the Genesis story and imagined the Garden of Eden in its flawless beauty. We recounted God’s choice to create man and woman in His image and entrust them with His lush green world. As we finished our account of creation, Josh surrendered the first balloon and we watched it sail up and away until it was a tiny green dot on the horizon.
Next Lizzy stepped forward with a black balloon. “But then Satan convinced Eve to eat from the tree of knowledge, and sin entered God’s perfect world.” Lizzy let go of the dark reminder of our fall from grace, and I continued solemnly. “Now there was a big gap between God and His children, like a huge cavern between Heaven and earth. God knew we needed a new way to reach Him. He knew we needed a bridge to Heaven.”
Hannah bounced to center stage and struck a pose. “Because God so loved the world, He sent His only son,” she declared with a waggle of her glitzy gold balloon. I nodded at my drama queen and invited my small audience to envision the gold star that had shone brightly in Bethlehem’s sky on the night of Jesus’ birth. Hannah spun in true ballerina style and lifted her hands heavenward as she offered the balloon to the sky. The gold star danced in the wind and mingled with the clouds before it disappeared in the hazy gray.
Reverently we continued. “After living 33 years on this earth without sin, Jesus endured the punishment we deserved and He died on the cross for our sins.” Luke waved the red balloon. “By Christ’s blood, we are saved.” The crimson balloon sailed away. ” When Jesus died on the cross, He built a bridge back to Heaven.”
Maggie was the only child still holding a balloon. Her purple prize bobbed in the breeze as I began the grand finale: “On Easter morning, Jesus’ friends went to the tomb where He’d been buried. And they couldn’t believe what they saw: the huge rock that blocked the entrance to the tomb had been rolled away and the place that had once held Jesus’ body was empty. Jesus was no longer in the grave, He had risen as King!” I nudged Maggie to let go of the last balloon, but she shook her head with an adamant “no.”
“Come on, Maggie,” Hannah coaxed, “We’re going to send your balloon up to Heaven because Jesus is King!”
In typical two-year-old fashion, Maggie stomped her foot and clung tightly to the curling ribbon attached to the balloon she’d been given. Bare-backed and diaper-clad, my youngest stood firm in the middle of the yard and wailed at the thought of surrendering her purple prize. Our Easter finale had fizzled.
Moments later, a tear-streaked Maggie hauled her purple balloon back inside and watched with pleasure as I anchored her regal floater to the stairwell. “Jesus stay?” my littlest girl asked as she pointed to her piece of the story. “Yes,” I assured her, “Jesus is right here.”
Lately, when I begin the day in my worn leather chair with a steamy mug of coffee and my dog-eared Bible, I can’t help but smile at the simple purple reminder of Easter’s enduring promise. We serve a King who dwells among His people. Though the tomb was empty, our homes need not be. Jesus is right here. If only we have eyes to see.
God wills that we should push on into His presence and live our whole life there. -A. W. Tozer
The Overflow: “Whom have I in heaven but You? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside You.” -Psalm 73:25
A saggy purple balloon hovers in my living room these days. While the foil is slowly deflating and the string is tangled and frayed, I am hesitant to remove our last visible remnant of Easter.
