Discovering That Less is More at Easter

I remember Easter as a child being all about more. More excitement, more candy, more eggs, more everything. I remember getting a brand-new dress—one of those dresses that made you feel just a little bit fancy and a little bit uncomfortable all at the same time. It was the kind of dress that said, “This is a special day,” even if all I could think about was what was waiting after church.

And oh, the eggs. I loved the egg hunt. I didn’t just enjoy it—I approached it with a level of determination that, in hindsight, may not have been entirely holy. My mother still tells the story (and I wish she wouldn’t) that I didn’t just collect my eggs… I apparently helped myself to a few from other children’s baskets too. Not my finest moment. Let’s just say I had a very strong commitment to abundance.

Back then, Easter felt like a celebration of getting more—more treats, more attention, more excitement. And honestly, I think I carried that idea for a long time without even realizing it. More felt like the goal. More felt like joy.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

These days, Easter feels less about more and more about… less. Less striving. Less proving. Less needing to gather things up to feel full. Because the truth of Easter is that everything that needed to be done has already been done.

The tomb is empty. Not because we worked harder, believed better, or gathered enough. Not because we earned it or deserved it. But because God chose love anyway.

And there is something about that which simplifies everything.

Easter reminds me that I don’t have to grab for life the way I once grabbed for those eggs. I don’t have to take from someone else’s basket to make sure I have enough. I don’t have to prove that I belong or that I am worthy of joy. The resurrection says it clearly: you are already held, already loved, already enough.

Less fear. Less comparison. Less trying to secure what has already been given.  And in that “less,” there is actually so much more.  More peace.  More grace.  More freedom to simply be who God created us to be.

And here’s the other thing I’ve come to see over the years—Easter isn’t just about what happens inside of us. It’s also about who shows up.

Every year, the sanctuary fills a little more. There are faces we haven’t seen in a while, and some we’ve never seen before. And if we’re honest, sometimes it’s easy to label that crowd—“Christmas and Easter people.” But I’ve been reminded of something Bishop Ken Carter once said: “Don’t make fun of people who only attend church this time each year; they are telling you that, when it matters, yours is their home church.”

I recently read an article that that said, “Instead, approach these guests with wonder and gratitude… recognize their presence as a sign that your church IS their spiritual home, where they feel welcomed and can encounter God’s love and mercy.”

That changes how we see things, doesn’t it?

What if, instead of noticing who isn’t here every week, we gave thanks that they are here now? What if their presence is not something to critique, but something to celebrate?  Because Easter has a way of calling people home.

The article reminds us, “Easter is a prime moment to share the Good News at the core of our faith. Christ’s resurrection promises new life and hope in every situation.” And that hope draws people—sometimes quietly, sometimes unexpectedly.

And it also nudges us to think outward. “Invite a neighbor, friend, or coworker who needs Easter hope. Offer to sit with them, worship together, and share the story that changes everything.”

That’s the beauty of Easter. It’s not something we hold onto—it’s something we share.

So Easter becomes not just a celebration of resurrection, but an invitation. An invitation to welcome, to notice, to extend grace as freely as it has been given to us.

Or as the article challenges, “As you prepare for Easter, cultivate a culture of hospitality where guests feel truly seen, valued, and at home, because your church IS their church.”

Because the truth is, Easter isn’t about having more people in the building. It’s about making sure every person who walks through the door experiences the “more” that comes from God.  More love.  More grace.  More hope.

I still smile when I think about that little girl in her Easter dress, clutching her basket like it was the most important thing in the world. She didn’t yet know that the real gift of Easter couldn’t be held in her hands.

It would take time to learn that.  But that’s the journey, isn’t it?

From more… to less… to discovering that God’s love has always been more than enough—and that there is always room for one more at the table.  See you Easter Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy