I wasn’t upset that the articles I wrote this week didn’t get as many reads. That’s not what stirred me. What hit deeper was realizing that these particular pieces—deep reflections on the power of the cross, the weight of Holy Week, and the unimaginable love of Jesus—just didn’t seem to carry the same interest as others I’ve written.
And while I can sit with that, I also feel the weight of what it reveals.
But I get it. I’ve been there too.
I’ve lived most of my life in the church. I know what it’s like to let the story of Easter become background noise. I know what it’s like to go through the motions—Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter morning—without letting the truth of it all shake my soul anymore. The worship songs feel familiar. The verses predictable. The message so well-rehearsed we forget it was meant to wreck us in the most holy, beautiful way.
But that’s not where I’m standing anymore.
Not this year.
Because something has shifted in me. As I’ve dug deeper into the Word, as I’ve allowed the truth of Scripture to move me—not just inform me—something has changed. I’ve stopped coasting and started craving. Craving the presence of the One who gave everything for me. Craving the Word that reveals Him. Craving the awe that comes when you realize He didn’t just die to get you into heaven—He died to give you life here and now.
So no, I didn’t write these articles because I needed a reminder this week. I wrote them because my heart is undone at the depth of God’s love for us.
Because when I pause and remember what Jesus really did—the suffering He endured, the silence He bore, the weight He carried—it completely wrecks me.
He didn’t deserve the sentence. But He took it anyway.
He didn’t owe us freedom. But He bought it with blood.
He didn’t just die for us. He died in our place.
And the most mind-blowing part?
Jesus isn’t still on that cross.
He came off of it.
He stepped out of the tomb—alive and undefeated. He walked out holding the keys to death, hell, and the grave, and He’s still walking. Right into the middle of our lives. Into the mess. Into the questions. Into the places we’d rather keep hidden.
He’s not distant. He’s tangible.
His presence is alive and active—felt at the whisper of His name.
Jesus.
There is power in the name of Jesus.
Not a Sunday-only, half-hearted, church-program kind of power—but the kind that still breaks chains and brings dead things back to life. The kind that meets you in the hospital room, the courtroom, the kitchen floor at midnight. The kind that holds you when nothing else can.
And if you’ve grown numb—if Easter has felt like just another calendar day—I’ve been there. But don’t stay there. Fan the flame. Open the Word. Let His truth soak into your dry places.
He’s not still on that cross.
He’s alive. He’s near. And He’s still moving mountains in the lives of those who call on His name.
Prayer:
Father,
I come to You, and honestly—I don’t even have the words to comprehend the depth of Your love that You poured out on the cross. It’s a love so deep, so profound, that it leaves me standing in complete awe and wonder at who You truly are.
There is no greater love than the love You’ve given us—a love that offers freedom in this life and leads us into eternity with You. And really… it simply doesn’t get any better than that.
To know we have forever with You—our King, our Warrior, our Savior—
I am humbled, Father.
I am wrecked by Your mercy.
And I cannot thank You enough for all You’ve done for me.
Amen
Thank you Tracee. You have met tge need of my heart with this write-up. Blessings 🙏
Amen! Thank You, Jesus! You alone are worthy!