A few weeks ago, my parents came with my husband and me to watch our son perform in one of his last high school band concerts. This particular show was a fundraiser, so people were bidding on baskets and prizes were being announced in between the songs.
For most people, when the winning number was called, the winner would sedately wave a hand in the air and then stroll forward to collect their prize.
My father couldn’t understand why people didn’t celebrate their wins with more exuberance. When someone won, he thought we should see and hear their excitement from across the auditorium. It was a fair point. We were all cheering as our children created incredibly complex and entertaining musical numbers. We would love to cheer when a member of our extended band family won a basket. But people seemed content to win without much fanfare.
The night continued along, with song after song and quiet win after quiet win.
“And now,” the band director said, “for one of our door prizes.” As he read the winning number, the auditorium of guests sat in silence. I read the numbers and noticed mine was one away from the winning number.
Then, just a few seats away from me, I heard a “Whoop!” of joy. It was my father. He had the winning ticket for the prize—and everyone in that auditorium knew it.
As he stood up, waving his arms and celebrating his win with great gusto, the crowd applauded and laughed. My dad made his way to the stage, where he collected a gift certificate for a chicken nugget tray from Chick-fil-A. Then he walked happily back to his seat, having captured everyone’s attention.
There was no doubt he was delighted with his win—and we all joined him in that excitement, clapping even after he had retaken his seat.
We do love a win. Now, here we are in the Easter season, where the victory is yours and mine and everyone’s. Easter is such a beautiful, joyful feast. Still, sometimes I feel like the 50 days of rejoicing is harder to sustain than the 40 Lenten days of penitence and prayer leading up to it.
Still, I’ve been thinking of my father and how he thinks that winners should convey their excitement. Maybe that could shape our approach to approach this Easter season. This is, after all, a time for rejoicing—not just for ourselves, but in a way that invites those around us to join in the celebration. We can shout for joy. We can even invite others to join in the excitement.
After all, Jesus conquered death. He opened the doors of heaven. He showed us that anything and everything is possible—and that eternal life can now be ours.
“The strife is o’er, the battle done;
now is the Victor’s triumph won;
O let the song of praise be sung:
Alleluia.”
The victory is ours. The joy is, too. Whether we’re shouting or singing or waving our arms to let people know about Christ’s miraculous victory, let’s find ways to reflect the joy of this beautiful season and invite others into the gift of this moment.
The celebration is just beginning.
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