Easter Eggs

It's that time of year again. Here on N. Wintzell we're preparing for Easter Sunday, and I hope that it will be a good one, as we celebrate the Resurrection. This Saturday, we'll be hosting an Easter Egg Hunt at 10:30, and we'd love for you and your children to come out and be a part of it. A lot's changed since I hunted Easter eggs. Back in the good old days, we actually dyed chicken eggs. Instead of being stuffed with candy or *gasp* money, they were stuffed with hard-boiled egg yolks and whites. As a non-egg eater, there's nothing particularly appealing about finding these kinds of eggs, other than the thrill of victory and the opportunity to throw rotten eggs at each other down the road.

Regardless, Easter's a special time of year, filled with its own traditions, including making your children wear matching clothes. Mama made us wear matching clothes and now we're passing on the tradition to our kids. There's a picture out there with me in a Kelly Green sports coat from 1989 that I hope never sees the light of day. To share in the fun, my boy will be in orange plaid shorts this year. For those of us privileged enough to be of a certain age and to have been raised in this little patch of Alabama, we had the opportunity to share in one particularly fine Easter tradition. All over the world, children will get Easter baskets on the big morning, but for many of us, those Easter baskets came from my Aunt Gernes' store, Landry Dry Goods.

If you never had the opportunity to shop with Aunt Gernes, your life is poorer for it. The store had a little bit of everything and nothing was ever thrown away. Books could be filled with the stories of people who searched all over only to find what they were looking for at Landry Dry Goods. During this time of year, the shelves would fill with Easter baskets, and as a child, I knew that candy time was just around the corner. At the register, there would be a small box filled with a candy treat, appropriate for the season, the Cadbury Creme Egg. You know the ones I'm talking about. Every trip to Aunt Gernes' would find me begging Mom for one of those eggs. I'd seen the commercials and knew about the chocolate shell and the promise of rich, creamy goodness on the inside.



Occasionally she cracked and bought me one. What a let down. Cadbury Creme Eggs wrote the book on overpromising and underdelivering. It all seems so right, but when the fateful moment comes, the reality is that those Cadburys just aren't very good. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since those days and Aunt Gernes and the store are gone, but I haven't changed all that much. Just last week I found myself at CVS and saw a bin full of those eggs. I just had to try one, to see if I'd like them any better now. They taste just like they did last year, and the year before as well. They never fail to disappoint. Just thinking about those Cadbury eggs is downright depressing,

Thankfully, those Easter baskets had something better in them:


Behold! The perfect Easter candy.

Year in and year out, my baskets would have those old Elmer's Heavenly Hash eggs in them. No commercials, no quacking rabbits, just candy goodness. They never let me down. They're dependable. I've learned to trust them. No matter how many I have, I always want more. No substitute will work: I need Heavenly Hash.

This year at Easter, we're offered many substitutes for the Resurrection. We're invited to believe in a god who is heaven's wishgranter and a Jesus who is little more than a wandering prophet who said nice things and made people happy. A Jesus whose greatest desire is that all those who follow will engage in self-actualization and be healthy, wealthy, and wise. We can go to church on that Sunday and hear again the message of the Cross and the hope of the Resurrection and walk away from it to the comforting embrace of old habits and a life without faith that calls us to "come follow me".

But it wouldn't be very tasty. It's a faith that overpromises and underdelivers. Its the Cadbury Creme egg of beliefs. I don't want it. I'm tempted by it and occasionally I find myself desiring it, but I know that it won't deliver. Give me the Son of God sacrificed on a cross, bearing my sin. Give me a risen savior who calls me to forsake all to come after Him. Give me someone who has loved me with a steadfast love beyond my own understanding.

And give me another Heavenly Hash egg.

That's what I'm ready for, here on N. Wintzell