Making Easter About The Heart, Not The Church

My Easter weekend was a pretty interesting one.

I finally unpacked all my stuff in my new home, made eggs and sausages for breakfast each morning, gobbled down natural yogurt in a bid to lose weight and curb my ice-cream cravings (which didn’t work, ended up asking my sister to bring me some Cold-Stone in the name of celebrating Easter), and had wine with my dearest mother.

Never did my foot step into church.

I hang out with a couple of my new neighbors and ended up having some whiskey and an Ubuntu session at 2am, seated in a circle and laughing our heads off. The next night saw me in my old friend’s house, catching up about life and having a deep conversation about how campus life was great, we were happy then. Now adulting has come in full force and all we can really do is try and be content with what life brings. We ordered a meat deluxe pizza. I was quite hesitant about having some because I’m lactose intolerant and that the Taxify guy who’d take me home later that night would have his own share of my pizza, only in a much different, worse way.

We ate jelly beans and drunk apple juice cos my otherwise-now-former-alcoholic friend had met Jesus and was now on an alcoholic break since 19th September, 2016. Funny how they remembered the exact date. Since I hate to drink alone, I decided to join along and partake in the apple juice drink-ation. (Anybody who watches ‘Wendy Williams’ knows how she loves to add the prefix –ation to literally anything. It’s her way of differenti-ation).

Also, my siblings visited.

My brother ended up eating my spaghetti bolognaise and claimed that it was uncooked. How dare he! I clutched my pearls and tasted the spaghetti only to realize he meant that my ring onions were still crunchy – which was deliberate. I love crunchy veges in my food. Speaking of crunchy onion rings, Urban Gourmet has the ultimate BEST onion rings I have ever had in Nairobi. No lie. Next time you order a burger, ask for the onion rings as opposed to the fries. The fries aren’t all that.

Anyhow, my sister and her husband came along too. I have a feeling those two will forever be in our house. They like to visit people. And by people I mean their families and close friends. I on the other hand, like to sleep and catch up to Shonda Rhimes TGIT nights with a glass of wine in hand, Olivia Pope style. Peopling has never been a strength of mine.

And yet, this entire time, I never made it to church. My best friend asked me for a prayer request right before she went for mass, and I sent them to her. I suspect she knew that I was still in bed when she asked, but I felt like that was thoughtful of her. I appreciated it.

But still, I didn’t go to church.

Not because I’m against church-ation. Oh no. I just believe that if you do have the time or opportunity to go for a sermon, then well and good. But really, religion is in the heart. Christ lives, resides, in the heart. You can physically go to church, and yet not at one point during your time there, will Christ be in your heart. On the other hand, you can meditate on Christ’s love from wherever you are, and believe that He dwells in your heart.

So that’s what I did. I welcomed Christ in by showing the people around me how much I love them, by calling my dad who was in shaggz and asking him how my cow is faring on (I have a cute black and white cow named after me), by popping a bottle of wine with my mum and celebrating new begins, by asking God to keep us safe, by thanking Jesus for dying on the cross for the sake of our sins.

Oh, I also finished reading ‘The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives’, which is by far the best book I ever read.

And that pretty much summed up my Easter weekend.