There is a particular feeling that arrives on a Monday morning.
It is not despair — that would be too dramatic.
It is not even reluctance — though that occasionally makes a guest appearance.
It is more of a thoughtful pause.
A moment when you look at the week ahead and think, “Well then… here we are again.”
The calendar is full.
The tasks are lined up with quiet determination.
The week, it seems, has every intention of proceeding.
And into this entirely ordinary Monday…
Easter cheerfully arrives again.
Christ is risen.
Which is, when you think about it, a rather bold thing to bring into a Monday.
Because Monday tends to operate on a different emotional frequency.
Monday prefers practicality.
Efficiency.
A certain measured approach to life.
Easter, on the other hand, arrives like a guest who brings far more joy than the occasion strictly requires.
It shows up with light.
With hope.
With a slightly unreasonable amount of confidence that things are, in fact, going to be all right.
And then — quite astonishingly — it refuses to leave.
This is where the Christian life becomes wonderfully interesting.
Because we are not asked to choose between resurrection and reality.
We are invited to bring resurrection into reality.
Into the week ahead.
Into the meetings, the conversations, the tasks that await our attention.
Now, this does not mean that Monday becomes effortless.
Let us remain grounded.
There will still be moments of busyness.
Moments of uncertainty.
Possibly even a moment where you stare at something and think, “I was entirely confident I understood this yesterday.”
But beneath all of that…
…something deeper is true.
The tomb is empty.
And if the tomb is empty…
…then nothing in this week is beyond hope.
Not the difficult conversation.
Not the complicated task.
Not even the thing you have been quietly avoiding since Thursday.
Easter does not remove the week.
It transforms it.
Because it reminds us that we are not moving through these days alone.
The risen Christ goes ahead of us.
Into the week.
Into the work.
Into the ordinary, holy, slightly unpredictable rhythm of daily life.
And — if we are paying attention — he brings something with him.
Joy.
Not loud, perhaps.
Not overwhelming.
But steady.
Persistent.
The kind of joy that can sit comfortably beside responsibility and say, “Yes, this is real… and so is resurrection.”
Which means that this Monday is not just the beginning of another week.
It is the continuation of a resurrection story.
One in which you have a part to play.
So go ahead.
Open the calendar.
Take a breath.
Step into the day.
But do so with a certain quiet confidence.
Because Easter has already arrived.
And it has brought everything you need.
Including — and this is no small thing — the grace to begin again.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Risen Lord,
You go before us
into every day.
Be present in the week ahead —
in our work,
our conversations,
and our quiet moments.
Give us courage for what is difficult,
patience for what is slow,
and joy that quietly endures.
And remind us,
as we begin again,
that we do so
in the light of your resurrection.
Alleluia. Amen.