There comes a moment — usually midweek — when one approaches the recycling bin with a certain degree of optimism.
“It will fit,” you say.
It will not.
The box resists.
The lid hovers.
Physics enters the conversation with a firmness that borders on theological certainty.
And so begins the sacred ritual of rearranging.
Things are shifted.
Flattened with determination.
Reconsidered from new and creative angles.
At one point, you are quite certain that if the Church ever requires a new spiritual gift, it will be listed as “Advanced Recycling Compression.”
Now, at first glance, this may not appear to be a particularly Easter-themed activity.
It lacks the grandeur of the empty tomb.
There are no angels involved.
And no one has yet written a hymn titled “Thine Be the Glory… Over the Cardboard Box.”
And yet…
There is something quietly profound happening here.
Because Easter is, among other things, a story about what is no longer needed.
The grave clothes — left behind.
The stone — rolled away.
Death itself — no longer holding its former power.
Resurrection is not only about new life.
It is about letting go of what cannot contain it.
Which brings us, quite naturally, back to the recycling bin.
Because much of life involves precisely this work.
Sorting.
Releasing.
Letting go of what has served its purpose but cannot be carried forward.
Old assumptions.
Worn-out worries.
The unnecessary packaging we wrap around ourselves to appear more put-together than we feel.
All of it, gently but persistently, being set aside.
Now, this is not always easy.
There are things we hold onto with surprising determination.
Not because they are helpful…
…but because they are familiar.
And yet Easter whispers a different possibility:
That there is life beyond what we have been carrying.
That there is freedom in release.
That the God who raised Jesus from the dead is already at work, making all things new—including us.
Which means that even this small, slightly comedic moment — standing beside an overambitious recycling bin — can become a kind of parable.
A reminder that we are not meant to hold onto everything.
That part of resurrection life is learning what to keep…
…and what to let go.
So go ahead.
Flatten the box.
Make room.
Release what no longer serves.
And if, in the process, the lid still refuses to close with perfect dignity, take heart.
Because grace, like resurrection, is not particularly concerned with appearances.
Christ is risen.
And He is already making space for new life.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Risen Lord,
You call us into new life
and into freedom we did not expect.
Give us courage to let go
of what we no longer need,
and wisdom to trust your work within us.
In the small acts of our days,
teach us the grace of release
and the joy of beginning again.
And fill us with the hope of your resurrection,
that we may live lightly and love deeply.
Amen.