On This Easter Monday

Easter blessings to you, friends in the holy work,

The lilies are still standing (and probably still aggravating your allergies). The last notes are still echoing. There’s probably a few plastic Easter Eggs on your property that have yet to be found. Somewhere, in quiet corners and full hearts, resurrection is still unfolding.

You have carried us through in a million different ways.

Through waving branches and trembling hosannas, through the intimacy of the table and the weight of the cross, through the long hush of Holy Saturday, and into the astonishment of Easter morning.

You tuned the instruments, steadied voices and made sure that you counted the chairs twice. You folded bulletins, rearranged the fellowship hall again and polished pews. You filled basins and placed bread. You entered fully into the drama of a narrative that embodies the ancient pattern of death into new life. You adjusted lights, checked microphones, gathered children, hid eggs, welcomed strangers, and made room. So. Much. Room.

Because of your care, your attention, and your faithfulness, your people encountered the story not as something distant, but as something alive. Because of you,

• someone heard “Alleluia” and believed it again.

• someone carried grief into Good Friday and did not feel alone.

• someone came out of curiosity and left with hope.

• someone who thought the story was over felt something begin again.

You may never know all the ways it mattered, most of us never do. It mattered. Deeply. Eternally. Quietly and boldly all at once. This is the mystery of what we offer: we prepare the space, we tell the story. We tend the details, and the Spirit breathes life into it in ways we cannot measure.

So today, on this Easter Monday, as the adrenaline fades and the tiredness settles in, receive this as truth:

What you did was holy.

What you offered was enough.

What was planted will continue to grow.

Rest, if you can. Breathe deeply. Let someone else hold the song for a moment, and know that just as you helped the church sing resurrection into the world, that same resurrection now holds you: gently, gratefully, completely.

With deep gratitude and Easter joy,

Rev. Dr. Jenn Pick

President of The Fellowship of Worship Artists