I walked into the playroom quickly this morning, mom on a mission, toys in hand headed for the baskets to put them away, but then I stopped abruptly.

I had caught my toddler dancing. She was boogieing left and right, lifting legs and arms and grinning.

As soon she saw me, she froze in mid-boogie and dropped her head in bashful embarrassment.

My girl is a secret dancer and a private singer. In the car, sometimes she forgets we’re there and accidentally starts singing along with her songs, bouncing her head and kicking her legs in time to the music.

But then I watch her for one second too long in my rear-view mirror and she notices that I’m watching and stops.

I’m never critical of her. It brings me great joy to see her sing and dance with a happy heart. Still, she has this innate pulling back, an automatic embarrassment that we never overcome no matter how many times I whisper, “It’s okay to dance. It’s beautiful to hear you sing.”

Some of us are secret worshipers, too. Like Nicodemus, we meet with Jesus in darkness and in privacy, afraid of what others might say or do if they knew we were pursuing Christ.

Even among other Christians, we might pull back. Don’t get too serious. Don’t worship too passionately. Don’t change your priorities too much. Don’t talk about God too often. Don’t let the Bible actually change you.

Jesus has a way, though, of busting through all of the layers of propriety and face-saving, people-pleasing, status-quo-following repression. No matter how hard we may try at times to stuff our faith into acceptable packages of behavior, God can stir us to abandon.

In Luke 7, Jesus performed one of those miracles that amazed people so much they couldn’t just stand around in quiet interest or retreat to places of private praise to avoid shame.

A widow walked behind a funeral procession, following the men lifting high the casket of her only son. Seeing her pain, Jesus responded with compassion, touched the coffin and commanded that her precious son rise up from the dead.

The son got up out of that coffin and started talking.

We’re told that “they were all filled with awe and praised God. ‘A great prophet has appeared among us,’ they said. ‘God has come to help his people.’ This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country (Luke 7:16-17 NIV).

I love how the Message describes the scene:

They all realized they were in a place of holy mystery, that God was at work among them. They were quietly worshipful—and then noisily grateful, calling out among themselves, “God is back, looking to the needs of his people!” The news of Jesus spread all through the country (Luke 7:16-17 MSG).

When was the last time you saw God active in your life and were filled with awe and holy fear?

His God-presence, always with us, should awaken the sense that we’re in a “place of holy mystery.” Yes, God is at work here and we are amazed.

We remove our sandals like Moses, in reverence that this is Holy Ground, made holy because God is here.

But then, overcome by awe, the people “praised God” and “noisily grateful,” they told everyone what Jesus had done.

They didn’t stay silent and keep the good news to themselves. They didn’t nod their heads in modest approval, but refrain from emotion and exuberance.

No, they shouted: Praise God, He is at work among us! Praise God, I’ve seen His hand and He’s real, our God is real!! Praise God, He has not abandoned us, but He is looking after the needs of His people!!

This was their message as they traveled through the country.

This is our message, too.
He saved us. He is saving us.
He redeemed us. He is rescuing us.
He is with us. He has not abandoned us!

We all have these moments when we can choose to dance and sing about all that God has done or remain hidden in the shadows, night-time Jesus-seekers too frightened of popular opinion for all-out discipleship.

Nicodemus had this choice, too. He had come in the shadows of night to ask Jesus just what being “born again” really meant.

But when Jesus died and his disciples had scattered, it wasn’t the faithful women who remained at the cross that arranged for burial.

Instead, A man named Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for Jesus’ body. He was “a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders” (John 19:38).

And who was with him? None other than Nicodemus, who brought about 75 pounds of lotions and spices to anoint Jesus’ body. Together, they wrapped their Savior with linen and placed him in a garden tomb (John 19:38-42).

Two secret worshipers, frightened of people, ashamed to go public with their faith, now honored Jesus with reverent awe and unhidden love. Suddenly, religious position, public opinion, and power didn’t matter very much.

Jesus had abandoned all for them, so they worshiped with abandon.

Scripture doesn’t tell us how Nicodemus and Joseph reacted when days later they learned that the grave clothes they had wrapped around Jesus’ body were folded in an empty tomb.

I bet they told everybody what God had done—how they knew for sure He was dead. Hadn’t they wrapped his body? Hadn’t they touched lifeless skin and moved a corpse into a grave?

Jesus had risen indeed!

I bet they danced and sang loud and didn’t care any longer who was watching.

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Hiding the Word:

Last night, our family sat at the Good Friday service at church. We sang hymns about the cross. We read Isaiah 52-53. My girls nailed papers with their sins written on them to a wooden cross in the front of the church sanctuary with the help of their Daddy and their grandparents.

We remembered the cross and the sacrifice Jesus made there.

Afterward, when we had arrived home, stripped off our jackets and plopped down our belongings, we glanced at our five caterpillars in a cup. In our short absence, two of them had climbed to the top and tipped themselves upside down.

It’s time. They know exactly when to spin the silk and form the chrysalis, just as they will know when to emerge as butterflies.

We are waiting with expectation now. We know the end of their story and it doesn’t stop with upside down caterpillars or bugs entombed in the cocoon of their own design. New life is the beginning that starts with the end.

In the same way, knowing as we do that Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb, we celebrate Good Friday with hopeful expectation–because Sunday is coming. His resurrection day is near.

Jesus’ close friends and family, however, hadn’t understood His messages to them. They didn’t fully expect His death. They didn’t look forward with hopeful anticipation for His resurrection. They got it all wrong.

Don’t we get it all wrong so much of the time? Don’t we expect God to act a certain way, and when He doesn’t, we lose hope? We grow weary and depressed, perhaps even angry.

We look at circumstances and we pronounce death over them. We think surely this is over. Surely nothing can be done.

Jesus defied all of our plans and expectations through His death and resurrection, providing the perfect way of salvation for the entirety of mankind. He continues to do that today. When He declares that the time is at hand, He can speak life into every circumstance and situation, and His plan is perfect.

Our verse for the week:

“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ
(1 Corinthians 15:55-56).

You can listen to Matt Maher’s song, Christ is Risen, by clicking on this link or viewing the video from the blog: http://youtu.be/IExdrZGQVeI

Weekend Rerun:

Surprise!
Originally posted July 27, 2011

All day long people were singing at her. Smiling and singing. They tickled her belly, kissed her cheek, hugged her, and said two magic words that she didn’t even understand, “Happy Birthday!”

At first, my now-two-year-old reacted to all this attention with nothing more than a puzzled expression. By the afternoon of her second birthday, she smiled a sweetly confused grin when we scooped her up for birthday hugs and kisses. After dinner, she enjoyed the visit from her grandparents, but it wasn’t until I brought out the birthday cupcakes and we sang to her that she really began to understand that this special day was about her.

As soon as I lit the candle, she knew what to do. She started blowing at the air while I still stood across the room with her birthday cupcake in my hands. And then after she was covered in icing and Mickey Mouse-shaped sprinkles, I brought out wrapped presents and gift bags.

Her face said it all. “For me?” She unwrapped each gift and immediately played with it, read the book, put the puzzle pieces in place, and fed the baby doll.

My little one had been surprised by joy.

How I love that age when the simple fact of a birthday is enough to bring laughter and excitement. My older daughters now anticipate their big days all year long. Within a week of turning six, my eldest began telling people she was, “Almost seven.” I’ve heard all their big plans for birthday parties (despite being told that we’re skipping this year), and yet they plan anyway.

But for my baby girl, there was no anticipation. She had no idea we were planning for her joy. She was oblivious to me stashing presents in the closet. She had no clue I wrapped them during her nap the day before the big day. She did know that I made cupcakes (she has a sixth sense for finding cupcakes), but she didn’t see me decorate them or pop two candles onto the top of the one just for her.

During those final days before her birthday, her sisters and I were the excited ones. We looked forward to showering her with special treats and signs of love, even more because we knew she wouldn’t be expecting it.

Matthew 7:11 says, “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”

When we’re feeling broken, just emptied out or filled with fear . . . when we look ahead to an uncertain future, not even knowing what tomorrow will look like for us . . . when we’ve been attacked into the ground, pounded on by trials and Satan and circumstances and one bad event after another . . .

. . . then we remember that God is at work in invisible ways, even when we cannot see His hand, His activity, or His plans. He gives us the good gifts of salvation, His Holy Spirit, His peace, yes. But even more, He pours out on us surprises of joy, presents of grace in the unexpected places, an oasis in the midst of our wilderness, and a shooting star of hope across a midnight black expanse of our future.

Angela Thomas in her book Do You Know Who I Am? wrote:

“there is always a hidden work of God. When you think that God is distant or that maybe God has turned against you, I want you to remember that in the unseen God is plotting for your joy. He is planning the redemption of your brokenness.” Angela Thomas

Does it tickle you to think of God in heaven wrapping presents for you, sending down cupcakes with sprinkles just for you–when you least expect it and on a day that seems so ordinary or worse, filled with despair?

That’s what He did for Mary Magdalene, sitting at the tomb of her dead Savior, weeping for the loss of Him and the seeming loss of all He had promised. In her sorrow, she had traveled to the tomb while it was still dark. Perhaps she couldn’t sleep, so throwing back her blankets she had simply gotten up and started walking to the place of His burial.

But the stone was gone. The tomb empty. She called for the disciples and they searched through scraps of linen for any answer to the mystery of the missing Savior.

There was despair and confusion and hurt. There was anger and defensiveness about grave robbers and defilers. It was a day that had started out bad enough and was quickly getting worse by the second.

Mary didn’t see Jesus “plotting for her joy.” He had been at work in the hidden places, descending into hell and snatching the keys of death out of Satan’s hands. He had risen on that third day and exited the tomb already, but she hadn’t seen any of that.

While God planned her surprise, she: “stood outside the tomb crying” (John 20:11).

It’s not until she sees Jesus herself—not even then, not even when she talks with Him, but only when He calls her by name—that she realizes the victory before her, the amazing miracle of resurrection.

The angels asked her why she was crying. Jesus Himself asked the reason for her tears. She cried because the brokenness was all she knew and the evidence of loss and grief was overbearingly present. An empty tomb, grave clothes in a pile, Savior’s body gone. That’s what she saw.

Isn’t that what we sometimes see, too? We see here and now. Bills due. Relationships broken. Uncertainty about the next day and the next. Unanswered questions. Danger for our kids. Loss and mourning. Difficult ministry.

We see the grave.

God sees the resurrection.

He’s your Father who loves you, who knows how to give you good gifts and is wrapping presents for you, rejoicing “over you with singing” (Zeph. 3:17), and working “for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose”” (Rom. 8:28).