By Tuesday, the week is no longer theoretical.
It has begun.
The plans we made on Monday have now encountered reality. The tidy list has developed… annotations. The carefully estimated timelines have revealed themselves to be, shall we say, aspirational.
And somewhere in the midst of all this, we find ourselves doing what human beings have done for generations:
Adjusting.
Rescheduling.
Reconsidering.
Quietly wondering if perhaps we were a touch optimistic.
And into this very familiar rhythm…
Easter steps in again.
Christ is risen.
Which is, if we are being honest, not particularly sensitive to our schedules.
Because the resurrection of Jesus has a habit of interrupting things.
Not rudely.
Not dramatically (at least, not after the first day).
But persistently.
You see it in the Gospels.
Two disciples are walking along, deep in conversation, processing the events of the past few days — a perfectly reasonable activity — when Jesus joins them.
They do not recognize him at first, which is both comforting and slightly concerning.
And then, slowly, the conversation changes.
Their understanding shifts.
Their hearts begin to burn within them.
And what had been an ordinary walk becomes something else entirely.
An encounter.
This is what Easter does.
It meets us in the middle of what we are already doing…
…and gently, firmly, changes it.
Now, this can be slightly inconvenient.
Because we like to be in control of our schedules.
We prefer to decide when something meaningful will happen. We enjoy allocating appropriate time slots for reflection, insight, and spiritual growth.
Easter, however, does not consult the calendar.
It shows up in the middle of things.
In the middle of a conversation.
In the middle of a task.
In the middle of a day that was proceeding quite nicely without any major theological developments.
And suddenly…
…there it is.
A moment of clarity.
A shift in perspective.
A quiet sense that something more is happening than we had realized.
This is resurrection at work.
Not overwhelming.
But unmistakable.
And here is where the joy comes in.
Because once you begin to expect these interruptions…
…you begin to welcome them.
You begin to move through the day with a certain openness.
A readiness to be surprised.
A willingness to pause.
A quiet curiosity about where God might show up next.
Even — and this is important — when you are in the middle of something else.
So today, if your schedule changes…
If something unexpected arises…
If the day unfolds differently than you had planned…
take a moment.
Pause.
And consider the possibility that this is not merely disruption.
It may be invitation.
Because the risen Christ is still walking with us.
Still joining us on the road.
Still turning ordinary moments into encounters with grace.
And if that is true…
…then even a Tuesday can become something extraordinary.
Not because everything went according to plan.
But because something better happened instead.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Risen Lord,
You meet us
in the middle of our days
and the midst of our plans.
Give us the grace
to welcome your interruptions,
to notice your presence,
and to respond with open hearts.
Turn our ordinary moments
into encounters with your love.
And teach us to trust
that wherever you meet us,
we are exactly where we need to be.
Alleluia. Amen.