Where is the marshmellow?

A sweet friend sent me the recipe for "resurrection rolls" to make during the Easter season this year. A fun idea. You wrap one triangle of crescent roll dough (from Pillsbury) around a buttered marshmellow, dip to into cinnamon and sugar, and put it in the "tomb" for ten minutes at 375 degrees. When the buzzer rings, Jesus (the marshmellow) has disappeared. He has risen from the tomb. They were fun and delicious.

One problem though. My kids didn't want the marshmellow to disappear. They wanted to eat it too. Of course, Nathan had trouble understanding that the marshmellow hadn't disappeared. It had just melted. So when the rolls came out of the oven, his was so disappointed. And the rest of us, were at least pretending to be excited. He had RISEN! He had RISEN indeed!

I've thought about that morning this week. And I've thought that Nathan's reaction was not too different from mine. Not unlike both Marys that went searching for their Lord's body, do I really want the tomb to be empty. Wouldn't it be easier if He were still here? In flesh and blood? So that I could touch Him, taste Him, smell Him, and Hear Him? I want to see the marshmellow and to know that it is real and that it tastes so sweet. To believe that He truly is with me and loves me and is holding me in His strong arm.

It is so much easier to walk by sight than by faith. Isn't it? But, of course, faith is the "assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Heb. 11:1) But thankfully, faith is "not of your own doing, it is the gift of God." Otherwise, I would be sneaking some more marshmellows...