Her innocent life was interrupted by catastrophic brain damage when she was a baby. Most of it was spent crippled, blind, and trapped in a wheelchair. Her Aunty, who was also her nurse, assigned to Megan the Monarch butterfly due to its baffling transformation from a simple caterpillar into the beautiful, winged things we enjoy seeing in summer. Metamorphosis, it is as if the caterpillar goes to sleep, and two weeks later emerges as a lovely new species. The association with Megan has stuck for our family. Our house has a definite butterfly theme throughout to remind us of her; we grow butterfly bushes to attract the gentle creatures; and one of Megan’s sisters bears a Monarch tattoo to honor her.
Megan turns thirty today.
And today is Holy Saturday. The day between the crucifixion on Friday and the Resurrection on Sunday. What was Jesus doing that day? It was the sabbath, he was resting from all his work. Why does this matter? Because everything that matters changed that weekend. We speak of Jesus today as just something else you can add to your life to make it better; like yoga, or education, or diet Pepsi; anything but what we truly need, anything but a savior. Before that weekend the dead just stayed dead. Death is personified in the bible, like an entity, or a god. It held us captive in a shadowy prison from which no human ever escaped, until that weekend. All the dark forces of the cosmos and every government on earth wanted Jesus to stay dead. But he did not bow to them when he walked on the earth; he saw no reason to oblige them while under it. He came to “proclaim liberty to the captives”, that’s what saviors do. It is as if the Son of God kicked open the gates of Death and Hell from the inside, then told the whimpering jailor, “I’m leaving, and I am taking them with me”.
Megan turns thirty today.
And even though I watched her die I know she is not dead, because of Easter. Humanity is a child; a child who was destined to grow into fullness and glory, but we were interrupted on our way to maturity. We suffered a grievous wound, a wound partially self-inflicted. We became crippled and blind, tied to a wheelchair; unable to truly perceive and interact with creation, and the Creator the way we were meant. Death is a terrible enemy, and yet our mortality is a gift from God, not a punishment. It means we are not forever stuck in our stunted, corrupt condition. We will be remade. Easter is the sunrise on a new creation; a country where Megan is being comforted; a kingdom that we take part in now, by faith.
Megan turns thirty today.
And I am not looking for her resurrection because I need it or wish it; wishing for a thing does not make it so. I am looking for it because of Easter, because of Jesus. I have hung all my hopes and dreams around the neck of a bleeding, dying man. A convicted felon, despised by this world. A man of sorrows. A man who rested on this day. Because after a life of doing so many wonderful things he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. Then he entered the strong man’s house and bound him and robbed him. He walked out of the tomb on Sunday morning to prove that he had the authority to do such things.
Megan turns thirty today.
And I confess I have more questions than answers about her resurrection, and the logistics of ours. Most of the bodies that have ever walked the earth no longer exist, so what on earth is God resurrecting? I suppose because he has the pattern he no longer needs the original garment. What is Megan doing now? Does “now” even mean the same thing in the presence of God? The veil between heaven and earth is thin, but I cannot see through it; I have tried, but I am still broken and blind in so many ways. I may not be able to answer these profound mysteries to my satisfaction, but neither do I comprehend the riddle of how a lowly caterpillar dissolves into the majestic Monarch butterfly; “monarch” – the King’s Butterfly. That is what our daughter is.
Megan turns thirty today.
And here is what I do know. I know that Megan was trapped in a cocoon her whole life, so we were never able to really know her; that changes because of Easter. I know that I held Megan’s hand her whole life, but she has never held mine; that changes because of Easter. I know that we talked to Megan every day, but she has never spoken to us; that changes because of Easter. I know that she has never walked or run or stood on the beach, she has never sung or danced or played with puppies, she has never kissed or hugged, or eaten a meal or watched a sunrise, that all changes because of Easter. I know that one day soon I will stand in the shade of this earth remade, and I will wonder at the beauty of a daughter I have longed for since she was a baby. I will see her and touch her because of Easter; because of Jesus.
Megan, you turn thirty today.
And you are alive in a way I do not fully understand, because now I am the crippled one. Have a good birthday with the King. Rest, no one deserves it more than you. I love you. I miss you. I cannot wait to finally meet you.
Happy Easter baby.
“There is a place called ‘heaven’ where the good here unfinished is completed; and where the stories unwritten, and the hopes unfulfilled, are continued. We may laugh together yet” –Tolkien
“Everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die, do you believe this?” Jesus