Dear friends,

As we journey from the shadowed stillness of Lent into the promise of Easter morning, I find myself reflecting on the depth and complexity of this holy season. It is not a straightforward path. It never has been.

This year, as we mark Easter amidst global uncertainty, political tension, and communal fatigue, it feels especially important to be honest about where we’ve been. Lent has taken us through wilderness places—individually and collectively. We walked with grief, confusion, longing, and lament. And yet, it is precisely this movement—through sorrow and into hope—that makes Easter so powerful.

A movie I recently watched with my family, Inside Out 2, captures this truth beautifully. If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend it. It’s about a girl named Riley who is moving into adolescence. Much of the film is spent inside Riley’s mind, which features a control centre piloted by five personified emotions: Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger and Disgust. Her teenage years introduce four new emotions: Anxiety, Envy, Embarrassment and Ennui. It’s a hilarious and brilliant exploration of the emotional landscape of adolescence (and, if we’re honest, of adulthood too).                    

One of my favourite moments is when the character Anxiety arrives and, looking around nervously, asks, “Where do I put my stuff?” I still chuckle thinking about it. But I digress…

Adolescence introduces a newly formed element of Riley’s mind called her “Sense of Self,” which houses memories and feelings that shape Riley’s beliefs. What struck me was the evolving relationship between Joy and Sadness. Early in the film, Joy does everything she can to keep Sadness away, trying to keep things upbeat and cheerful, hoping that all Riley’s core memories will be positive. But—spoiler alert—by the end, it is clear that Joy cannot exist without sadness, and vice versa. Joy says to sadness “wherever I go, you go.” She realizes that true joy doesn’t come from pushing sadness aside. It comes from embracing it. Sadness, it turns out, gives Joy her depth and perspective. Together, they create something more honest, more human—something holy.

                   Lent softens the soil so resurrection can take root

Isn’t this exactly what Lent and Easter offer us? Lent doesn’t cancel joy—it prepares us to feel it more fully. It softens the soil so resurrection can take root.

But I’ve been thinking about another emotion introduced in the movie: Ennui. It’s a kind of grey, detached listlessness. Ennui is the voice that says, “Why bother?” It’s the numbness that creeps in when things feel too hard for too long. And if we’re honest, many of us—many of us in Canada, many in our churches, many in our communities—know that feeling all too well.

                       The real danger of our time: detachment

This, I believe, is the real danger of our time. Not anger. Not sorrow. But detachment. A giving up. A slow surrender to disconnection.

And so, Easter comes not only as a celebration—but as a call. A call to reengage. To feel again. To hope again. To risk joy again. Because Christ is risen—not only in the bright places, but in the broken ones too. And that resurrection promise pulls us toward life.

                              Easter calls us toward life

This year, I pray that we don’t skip past the sorrow. That we don’t deny the wilderness we’ve walked. But that we also don’t stay there. Because Easter invites us to a deeper joy—one that isn’t shallow or performative, but rooted in the whole story. A joy shaped by loss, like a river forging new ground. A joy that sings because it has wept.

May the Risen Christ meet you exactly where you are this Easter—whether in celebration or in exhaustion, in confidence or in doubt. You are not alone. We are a Resurrection people, and wherever you go, the Spirit of God is already there.

With deep gratitude and Easter hope,

Treena Duncan, Executive Minister, Chinook Winds & Pacific Mountain Region