Easter Archives - Jodie Berndt

Easter Basket Book Giveaway

03.18.2022

We’re a month away from Easter, and baby Noah and I are just hopping into your in-box today to let you know about our favorite freebie of the year: THE EASTER BASKET BOOK GIVEAWAY.

Every year, we pick a few of our best-loved new releases – books we think families will enjoy – and share them with you. If you want to win the Easter Giveaway, pop on over to my IG account to tag one of your favorite bunnies, but for now I’ll just go ahead and tell you what’s in the basket this year. (Click on any of the titles to learn more or order on Amazon; books may also be available at ChurchSource.com, ChristianBook.com, or your favorite local bookseller.)

Little One, We Knew You’d Come is the latest release from beloved author Sally Lloyd-Jones. (You know her from the Jesus Storybook Bible.) It’s a beautifully illustrated way to celebrate the joy of new life and love when a baby is born. Noah especially loved the last line: “…we’re so glad you’ve come!”

What If It’s Wonderful? Release Your Fears, Choose Joy, & Find the Courage to Celebrate is by Nicole Zasowski, a licensed marriage and family therapist who says that God’s purpose for us is not just worked out in our struggles, but also in our dreams and our joys. Nicole makes the psychological and spiritual case for celebration, encouraging us to approach life with an expectant heart and the courage to trust that God really is good. I’d snag this one on the strength of the title alone.

(Noah loved the party horn we tried with What If It’s Wonderful; she couldn’t get it to unfurl but that didn’t stop her from making kazoo-like noises to celebrate!)

Next up in the Easter Giveaway Basket is the updated version of a time-tested classic loved by generations of families:

Honey for a Child’s Heart by Gladys Hunt is for anyone who wants to discover wholesome, nourishing books for their kids. I wish I’d known about this resource when our kids were growing up; the annotated list of books for kids ages 0-12 is more than a little impressive, whether you’re looking for a good read-aloud story or if you just want to cultivate your child’s love for reading. (True confession: I looked through the list and I’m ordering several of the author’s recommendations for myself!)

And as someone who is currently testing the theory, “If you don’t clean for six months, the dust doesn’t get any worse,” I am both challenged and inspired by Christy Fitzwater’s Keeping House: A 30-Day Meditation on the Value of Housekeeping. If Christy cleans even half as well as she writes, her house must be sparkling. If you’re looking for some fresh inspo as you tackle the routine jobs that come with keeping house (and you want to draw closer to God in the process), this one’s for you.

And finally, my favorite: Raising Prayerful Kids, by Stephanie Thurling and Sarah Holmstrom. The subtitle on this one says it all: Fun & Easy Activities for Building Lifelong Habits of Prayer.

From fun crafts like paper prayer chains and blessing bags, to soul-rich introductions to things like The Lord’s Prayer and the practice of Lectio Divina, to discussion prompts and sometimes laugh-out-loud stories, I can already tell that this is one of those books that’s gonna be the go-to resource every time we get to babysit the grandkids.

So…click the links in this post, check the reviews, and if you think you’d like to win the whole bundle, I’ll see you on Instagram! (Winner announced Sunday…gotta get these books in the mail before Easter!)

The Power of Hope

04.19.2019

As long as matters are really hopeful, hope is mere flattery or platitude. It is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength at all.

That’s G.K. Chesterton. And I’ve been mulling his words all week long. Because we know Easter’s coming–we have reason to hope–but what about those early believers? To Christ’s friends and his followers, things must have looked hopeless. Their savior—their closest companion—had been brutally murdered. It seemed inconceivable that He’d live again. And when I see Mary at the tomb, mistaking the Lord for a gardener, I get it. I would have, too.

“It’s only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength at all.”

If you’ve ever stood facing the bleakness—in a marriage that’s broken beyond repair, a diagnosis where the doctors have done all they can, a child who’s walked away from his faith—you know exactly what Chesterton meant. Hope needs to be more than a platitude. It has to be some sort of anchor when it looks like there’s nothing to hold.

Hope has to work.

Which is, of course, what Easter is all about.

Scripture tells us that God, in his great mercy, gives us new birth into a living hope through Christ’s resurrection. It says that hope will not disappoint. And that hope is an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God.

Isn’t that a fabulous image? Hope really is a lifeline–a strength we can count on, no matter how hopeless things look.

And as we mark Good Friday today and look forward to Easter, I’m praying for you. I don’t know where you are or what you might be facing, but I know the God of hope. And I know that He’s faithful.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him.

You are loved. ❤️

Book Giveaway for Your Bunny!

03.02.2018

People sometimes wonder how they can teach their children to pray.

I get that. Some of us didn’t grow up in homes where we saw prayer modeled, or even talked about. And for a lot of people, prayer can feel like something best left to professional clergy, or to “varsity” Christians like the beloved Billy Graham. People who know how to do it “right.”

As I said, I get that. And I wish I had a sure fire-formula for raising kids to know God and to (as Hebrews 4:16 puts it) “approach his throne of grace with confidence.” I don’t, but I think at least two things can help:

First, let your kids see you pray (even if that feels awkward, at first). If you’ve got children, you know that “Do as I say, not as I do” may sound good, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as “Do as I do.” When it comes to learning and picking up habits, more is caught than taught.

And second, introduce them to Scripture. In his book, Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God, Tim Keller reasons that “we speak only to the degree we are spoken to” and that when our prayers are immersed in the language of Scripture–the words first spoken to us, by God–our lives, and our prayers, find their anchor.

Keller’s book is great, but it’s definitely heady. If you’d rather find the cookies on the bottom shelf (and share them with your children), you might start with something simpler. Something like First Bible Basics or Psalms of Praise, two new board books by Danielle Hitchen and Jessica Blanchard. Robbie and I focus-tested these treasures on our two-year-old niece, and she loved them.

We loved the books, too. And with Easter less than one month away, I can’t think of anything better for the Bunny to pop in a little one’s basket! The books feature colorful illustrations, power-packed verses, and kid-friendly concepts:

They’re also chock full of biblical principles and promises. And honestly? It’s not just the babies who benefit. Feeling anxious? Overwhelmed? Can’t sleep at night? Hold onto Psalm 4:8 as God’s promise for YOU:

If you like the look of these books and you’re interested in winning a set, hop on over to Instagram (@jodie_berndt) or Facebook (Jodie Berndt Writes) and leave a comment. We’ll pick three winners at random and announce the names on Monday.

(Dogs, no matter how spiritually curious or astute they may be, are not eligible to win.)

The Road to the Cross

04.11.2017

Holy Week. The week before Easter. The week when Jesus knew that “the time had come for him to leave this world” (John 13:1), and that the road ahead – the road to the cross – would be filled with unspeakable pain. What was he thinking?

Do you ever wonder about that?

I do.

Being fully God, Jesus knew exactly what was about to happen. He’d be insulted, rejected, and abandoned – both by the Jewish leaders (many of whom believed in him but who were too scared to admit it, since they “loved praise from men more than praise from God”) and by his closest friends. (John 12:42)

He would suffer indescribable torment. The press of the thorns…the sting of the whip…the pain of the nails…the struggle to breathe.

And he would know the heartache of watching his mother watch him die – and of being unable, in that moment, to wipe the tears from her eyes.

So what was he thinking, on the road to the cross?

I can’t begin to imagine, but Scripture gives us some clues. Jesus says that his heart is “troubled” and that the idea of backing out has at least presented itself. He confides in his friends, telling them that he is “overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” And he prays, asking God if there is any way to take a pass…but then, ultimately, choosing God’s will over his own. (John 12:27, Matthew 26:38, Matthew 26:39)

Clearly, the road wasn’t easy. It was agonizing. So how did he do it? How did he – being fully man – get past the fear and the worry and the sorrow that stood in his path?

Here again, the Bible offers some answers. Reading through the gospels and Paul’s letters, we see a man inspired by obedience, trust, humility, and love. And, in addition to these internal motivators, Hebrews 12:2 reveals an external driver: Future joy. “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus,” the writer says, “who for the joy set before him endured the cross…”

Future joy.

I’ve combed through the commentaries looking to flesh out, exactly, what that joy was. It seems like, for Jesus, the joy came in three parts:

The first is the idea of a mission accomplished. His teaching was revolutionary and his miracles amazing, but Jesus knew that the whole point of his life was the cross (“It was,” he says in John 12:27, “for this reason I came to this hour”). Fulfilling his purpose – the job that aligned with God’s master plan – gave him joy.

The second reason was the resurrection. Jesus knew (because he was God, and because of prophecies like the one in Psalm 16:9-11) that he would come out of the tomb alive, and that his experience would open the door to the everlasting joy of God’s presence – not just for himself, but for all who would call on his name.

And the third reason? The third reason is the one that makes me cry. The third reason Jesus stayed on the road to the cross (the main reason, in fact) is us. He did it for us. He did it, the Bible says, to keep us from falling and to present us before God’s glorious presence without fault and with great joy. (Jude 24)

Jesus wanted to be able to bring us to God. We are the reason he endured the cross. We are, I believe, what he was thinking about, as he made his way up that hill.

And this Holy Week, this Easter, I want us to think about that, too. Because we are God’s beloved – not just in the future, but right here and right now.

We are – you are – his joy.

No More Sting!

03.25.2016

No more jellyfish pix, I promise. But I saw this impressive fella (gal?) in the National Aquarium last week, and with today being Good Friday and all, I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a fresh look at how death lost its sting.

Here’s how 1 Corinthians 15:3-6 breaks it down: Christ died for our sins, he was buried, he rose again, and then he appeared to a whole lot of people. Death, done.

Let’s join our voices with countless saints who have gone before and turn our Friday prayer into a praise today:

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:55-57)

Have a glorious Easter!

The Road to Victory

03.24.2016

I love college sports. I’m partial to U.Va., of course (and how about that Anthony Gill, praying for Coach Bennett on the sidelines last weekend?), but I’ll watch almost any team, particularly if a big game is on the line.

But there’s one part I definitely don’t love. Even if the whoopsie is on the part of the “bad guys,” I really hate it when a contest comes down to the wire and the guy on the free throw line misses his shot. Or the goalie lets a zinger rip past his shoulder in lacrosse’s “sudden death” overtime. Or (and this is probably the worst) when it’s up to the kicker, and he misses the last-second field goal. Even just writing about it, my stomach hurts.

It’s not that I hate the thought of losing. It’s more that I hate the thought that (as one of our football-playing friends put it), “First you’re the hero, and then you’re the zero.”

Which is, when you think about it, kind of what happened to Jesus in the space between Palm Sunday and Good Friday. At first, the crowds are lining the streets, spreading their coats on the ground for his donkey and waving palm branches while they shout cheers like, “Hosanna!” and “Blessed!”

But then the mood shifts, and some of these same people are turning their backs on him. Pretending they don’t even know him. Spitting on Jesus, even. And shouting, “Crucify!”

And he took it.

Philippians 2:7 says that Jesus “made himself nothing.” He emptied himself of all the glory that was rightfully his and, voluntarily, became the biggest zero the world has ever seen.

To most people, it looked like Game Over. But it wasn’t. And I know we’ve still got a few days before the stone gets rolled away, but honestly? Easter is the best come-from-behind, bust-all-the-brackets, zero-to-hero story that has ever been told.

And I love it. I love it because Jesus didn’t just win one for himself; he won it all of us. “To all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12)

And I love it because he didn’t just triumph over death so that we could go to heaven when we die. He did it so that we could be on the winning team now, so that we could play with confidence and joy, even when the game doesn’t seem to be going our way.

I don’t know where you are, spiritually, or what you’re dealing with this Easter season. But I can tell you this: God is all about the zero-to-hero thing. To him, it doesn’t matter how badly we’ve messed up our marriages, our parenting, our jobs, our whatever. He knows all of that, and he still wants us to play for him. He wants to take all the zeroes of our lives and turn them into a win.

If you’ve never made a decision to trust God – to just hand him your life, cuz he’s already given his for your sake – I want to encourage you to do that this Easter. Being a Christ-follower doesn’t mean you’ll never get fouled, or that you’ll never get a bad call. You will. But you’ll be playing for a Coach who is crazy about you, who has a wonderful game plan for your life, and who has already won the victory.

And March Madness doesn’t get any better that that.

Getting Egged: An Easter Surprise

04.07.2015

Twelve years ago, when we began renovating our home, the bathroom guys cut a giant oval out of a piece of plywood to make a hole for the bathtub. The kids were young, underfoot, and more than a little interested in the whole construction process. In an an effort to keep them from firing nail guns at each other or sawing off someone’s foot, I sent them outside with the egg-shaped wood scrap and a bunch of paint and said, “Easter is coming. Make something.”

And “The Egg” was born.

The contractors attached a wooden easel and sharpened the stakes so that the kids’ masterpiece could be displayed in the front yard. Holy Week was just a few days away, and we hatched what we thought was a brilliant plan: In the same way that Jesus’s resurrection came as an awesome surprise to his followers, we thought we would “surprise!” our neighbors by thrusting the sign into their yards, all under the cover of darkness. We taped instructions and a Sharpie marker to the back of The Egg, encouraging each lucky recipient to sign the back and then, the next night, move the whole contraption to a new location as a way to share the love of Easter all week long.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, for one thing, tub decks are made of sturdy stuff. The Egg weighs about 70 pounds and, at nearly 6-feet tall, it’s not like it fits comfortably in the passenger seat. Or even the trunk.

Not only that but, as it turns out, not everyone wants an Easter surprise.

One garden club guru (whose yard is truly spectacular) caught wind of our scheme and assured us that, while she certainly did believe and endorse the “Risen” message, The Egg would be “happier elsewhere.”

A prominent local businessman got up in the middle of the night, spotted the moonlit orb from his bathroom window, woke his wife (“What the heck is that thing??!”), and then literally ran outside in his boxers to remove it, lest any of our Jewish neighbors (who were also his clients) see it on their way to work.

As word spread, husbands everywhere began to regard The Egg with distrust, knowing that it had the power to puncture a pipe and destroy an entire sprinkler system.

And so, to save both relationships and hydrangeas, we made a new plan.

Now we no longer surprise anyone. Instead, very late on Easter Eve, long after it gets dark, Robbie taps an able-bodied child (this year, it was a fiancé, which is all part of the on-going hazing plan to be sure the guys know what they’re in for with this family) to help him lug the thing out of the garage. Together, they wrestle it out to the street and set it up on our corner, where – we hope – it will bless the neighbors. (If they don’t find themselves cheered by the “He is Risen” message, I figure that they can at least be happy that The Egg didn’t wind up in their yard.)

And I like to think it is blessing people. For years, we’d come home from church and make our kids (and any weekend guests) stand out on the street, posing with The Egg for the Annual Easter Pic.

Recently, our neighbors began doing the same thing; this year, The Egg showed up in at least three different Instagram posts.

Maybe the neighbors know that time is short. The wood is splintering, the pointy stakes wobble, and the 12-year-old paint job (which never looked all that good, even to the untrained eye) is starting to look what might actually be considered “bad.” I doubt that The Egg will see many more Easters.

But, happily for all of us, its message will: He is risen. He is risen this Easter, he is risen next Easter, he is risen forever.

Indeed!

I’m filing this blog under “Try this.” For those of you who want to make yourselves an Egg, be my guest. But for those who don’t (which I would guess might be all of you), the “try this” factor is simply this: Know that the resurrection doesn’t just pave the way for our eternal salvation. It also comes with power for daily living, as in right now. It comes with hope.

Which is certainly worth trying, with or without your own piece of plywood.