I wash my new dishes. Currier and Ives blue patterns smile up at me from under soapy suds. They are ready to make their debut in our home. Their first Easter. Of many, I hope.
As I scrub I begin to wonder. This may be their first Easter in our home, but it may not be their very first Easter.
How many have they seen? How many times have they been lovingly set around the table? How much laughter and lighthearted conversation have they been privy to? Who owned them last? How did they end up in that antique shop? Why were they unwanted in the end?
I will probably never know. But here they are lovingly set on the table again, privy to laughter and lighthearted conversation. Here they are given a second chance.
It reminds me of a God who always gives second chances. Who doesn’t leave me on the shelf, unfit for any more use.
It reminds me of Lamentations 3:22-23: “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
It reminds me of the reason we celebrate. Because the Son of the Most High gave up His life to give me a second chance. Every morning.
And it suddenly seems very appropriate to celebrate the Giver of second chances with second-hand dishes.