He ain’t there, y’all. Musing of an Easter goer and over all hot mess……..

I did something Sunday I still can’t believe I did. It’s something I’ve talked about others for. In a scandalous voice, I might add. “Omgahhhh did you see so and so?” Yes, I’m aware that’s judging. Painfully aware. Yet I did it anyway. Oh, the embarrassment. Go ahead and get your shovel out so you can bury any preconceived notion you have of me. Here lies Kimmie’s shame and humiliation. And her judging side. Are y’all ready? Ok, deep breath. Here goes.

I was an Easter goer. I marched myself, my husband and my child up in that church on Easter. I met my best friend Chanda and her family and proudly sat on that pew like I was really doing something. 75% of those faithful church members were like “Who in the heck is that”? I sang loud and proud the songs about him rising, I got my bible out and followed along, and I nodded my head so many times during that sermon folks probably thought I had some kinda twitch going on. I’m over here like “Amen” and “Yes, Lord” and “Thats right” when that preacher was preaching. And Brother Dill was speaking the truth. Ain’t it grand I decided to show up and listen? Grace Jesus with my presence? And the rest of the church? Jesus, take the wheel.

I know what you’re thinking. I think it too! She needs to be going over to that jail and having a bible lesson and posting scripture and verses and acting like she’s sitting at the foot of the cross. And I ain’t dumb enough to think that folks that hear me let loose with a wordy dird every now and then don’t think it then, too. But I go back to that one thing my Granny O told me so many times that I never got until a few years ago. You can have church wherever you are. Some of the most “real” church I’ve ever attended with in the K & J pods of the county jail. Jesus was there, the Holy Spirit was there and if I was a betting woman there was a whole lot more than that up in there.

I mean hairs standing up on your arms, having to sit on your hands to keep from waving and shouting Glory! You know that heavy feeling you get in your chest and that feeling when you can’t help but cry because something reached down in your soul and said sister, here it is! It’s yours for the taking! I’m handing it to you. Just grab hold and don’t let go. Or let go and let God. Somebody say amen if you know what I’m talking about.

That’s what we do, ain’t it? We grab ahold and then we let go. We get all confident in our faith and in our walk and then BOOM! Here comes that devil. He gets all up on my nerves. And you know what? I let him. I open the door and say, well hey there! Come on in! How’s your momma and ’em? Who is the devils momma anyway? I mean like Jesus had Mary Magdalene surely the devil had a momma too right? Wait. I think I met that lady once. At work. She came in one day and….oh wait. There I go judging again.

You know those days and weeks when we’re down and out and there are bills to be paid and not enough money and you’re sick and the dog craps on the rug and brings a turtle in and lays in the middle of your bed gnawing on it (true story) and you’re late and when you do get there you’ve forgotten half of what you needed and have to go back or beg your husband to bring it to you? Or you get that mad face emoji from your boss because you didn’t do something you were supposed to or everyone at work needed you to do everything for them and left no time for you and your work? And that’s just fine, because Lord knows their time is more valuable than mine. The days when things ain’t going right are the ones I’m talking about. THOSE are the days I call on Jesus and say Lord, you better intervene and do it quick because if you don’t I might end up being the person getting to hear the bible lesson at the jail.

I’ve realized lately the times I call out to Him are the bad days. What if, just what if, instead of praising Him in the storm, I called His name when the sun was shining and my fur babies were just sitting there looking adorable and not fighting and using the bathroom rug as a toilet and your husband is looking at you adoringly and work is as joy (ok, maybe that one is a bit of a stretch) and you have the most precious friends and family and coworkers? Because one thing I’ve learned and learned the hard way is this. The devil doesn’t come at you when you’re doing wrong. Nope. Sure don’t.

The devil comes at you full force and with a vengeance when you’re doing right. All those times you’ve been grumbling and fussing with your neighbor or your family? Or your coworkers? Yep, devil ain’t worrying with you. You’re in active addiction or hitting the casinos spending your house payment or laying in the bed depressed all day? You aren’t even a thought in the devils mind then. You know where the devil is? He’s over here hot and heavy on the person that you are looking at thinking “I wanna be them.” “They’ve got their stuff together”. That’s where the devil is. He’s on every single person trying to do right.

He’s on the recovering addict who is clean for the first time in 10 years. He’s on the businessman who is successful and making money hand over fist. He’s on that couple that you look at and think has the perfect marriage. The momma whose kids always match and have manners and she posts pics on Facebook of her meticulous home looking like something out of Southern Living (not calling any names, my precious friend Crystal LOL). He is with that person that just landed their dream job and thinks heck yeah, I’ve finally made it.

Bottom line. THE DEVIL DOESN’T COME AT YOU WHEN YOU’RE DOING WRONG. HE COMES AT YOU WHEN YOU’RE DOING RIGHT. Write that down in the front of your bible next to your kids names. As sure as the sun rises on whatever kind of day we are having, a horrible one or a good one. And the best thing any of us can do is keep our guard up.

Now, I’m not saying don’t feel good about a good life. Heck, I’m still a newlywed and I make myself sick sometimes when my husband walks in the door and I get all googly eyed and get butterflies. Yes, he gives me butterflies. Help my time. That man. I ain’t never done anything in my life to deserve him. But I’m oh, so glad the Lord saw fit to send him to me. And that He gave me the sense to recognize it’s really OK to feel good about your marriage, and your life and your blessings. But we must always, always guard our heart, our lives and our blessings. Place a hedge around them and dare the Devil to try to get thru it. Stick you some thorny bushes in it so he gets pricked like Jesus did up on that cross.

Which brings me to my final thoughts, since I’ve been all around the world with this post. I love Easter. I think it’s my favorite holiday. Now, I won’t lie and say Thanksgiving isn’t a close second. I would eat a sweet potato raw that’s how much I like them. And I’m that crazy pumpkin spice lady you see all the memes about. But Easter. And Good Friday. Holy Week. That gets my heart thumping. Jesus died for ME. I had a hand in stopping Jesus’s heart. Let that sink in.

I literally can’t watch The Passion of the Christ. I should be ashamed to even tell that. But I can’t. I’m over here watching videos shielding my eyes from the bad parts and Mary Magdalene is literally standing and sitting there watching her son be beaten and crucified? I stress when Dylan gets a sunburn. And he’s 25!!! Mary, Mary, Mary. She’s right up there with Job for me.

But those 3 days later. Here them women came with their spices ready to anoint that body and THE TOMB WAS EMPTY! You can’t make up stories this good. Living he loved me, dying he saved me, buried he carried my sins far away. Thank you, Jesus. He did it for even an Easter goer like me. And for you. And then someone threw in a magic rabbit and died eggs and all kinds of fun just for good measure. And ham. And potato salad. And if you’re really, really lucky, deviled eggs.

He ain’t there, yall. He arose, He arose, Hallelujah, Christ arose…..