He must have been tired. So tired. You know it has to be exhausting, all that suffering and dying and rising again. I’m tired this morning after resurrection… and I wasn’t even the one who died. Every year it’s the same…Easter wears me out. But even in the craze of dyed eggs and chocolate bunnies, Easter lilies and overworked choir members, there’s something about resurrection. Resurrection gives you courage to step into what’s new, even though it doesn’t seem plausible. Resurrection means possibility, even when yesterday you seemed totally out of ideas. Resurrection hints at life even where death has already declared a victory. It’s hard to keep believing in resurrection. But it’s harder to envision a world without it. And so we keep at it, even on those mornings after resurrection.