Easter Sunday soon came, but there were no family celebrations or in-person church sermons that day, at least for us. Instead, me and my household spent the day dyeing Easter eggs with food coloring instead of with a dye kit, for stores were barred from selling non-essential items during the first quarter of the pandemic. They turned out much more vibrant than we expected. When we ran out of eggs to dye, I grabbed my paints, and we painted little cards to send to family and friends. That night, we had a huge roasted turkey all to ourselves, and I fell asleep with a stomach full of turkey and stuffing. 

But, much more importantly than turkey and chocolate cream eggs, was the Easter holiday itself, and what it truly meant. 

While my mom and little brother were at the park across the street, I sat down at my piano and played the song "He Lives", by ear, among other songs. I never (and still don't) like to play music in front of people (I struggle to write and draw in the presence of others, too). But, I love to play the piano and guitar, the piano being my favorite instrument to play and listen to. 

I don't really know how to put things like this into words, but it was almost as if God was playing the piano using my fingers. I played hymn after hymn absolutely perfectly, including hymns I hadn't memorized the lyrics to. I rarely got every note in a song just right, and up until that Easter afternoon, I'd never gotten the notes perfectly for multiple songs in a row. I was absolutely elated by this, so much so that I pulled out my phone and began to record myself playing.

Oh, if only I'd saved those recordings before that phone finally gave in after several years of abuse. 

Anyway, the hymns I played on the piano were all centered around the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; God in the Flesh. Christ rose from the dead three days after being crucified, not to stop people and animals from dying a physical death, but to save them from having to pay for their sins in eternal damnation. We're all filthy sinners, after all. But, we are well loved and cared about by the Creator of all things, as depraved as us humans can often be. All we have to do is accept the love of God, and we will be accepted into His kingdom. 

For the record, God does not send people to hell, nor does the bible ever say hell is a place of fire and demons armed with pitchforks. Hell is just a place were God is absent, and people choose to go there freely. As CS Lewis put it, "Hell is locked from the inside". 

For the longest time, I struggled with the mostly American evangelical belief that God actively damns people to hell, where they're literally tortured by cloven-hooved creatures and burned to a crisp in literal fire. It made no sense. How could an infinitely loving and merciful God condemn so many people to hell for eternity to pay for only sixty or seventy years worth in sins? Well, that question is only an issue if you subscribe to the biblically inaccurate story of Daunte's Inferno, where many people get their idea of hell. 

Finish this page later....