Easter. A swirl of egg hunts, pastel dresses, a spike in church attendance, triumphal anthems, and sermons about the empty tomb.

In the midst of this annual affirmation of the power of love over death, as a Christian minister I’ve occasionally been tugged aside by a church member. In hushed, earnest, and slightly embarrassed tones they’ve asked: “What does the resurrection mean for me, today?”

After years of hearing the Easter story, they still felt something was missing. It wasn’t a question about the mysterious wonder of a once dead but now-alive Jesus and the ensuing promise of eternal life. They got all that.

But that wasn’t the point of their query. These sincere people of faith still thirsted to know if resurrection could mean more.

In so many words, their question was, “Beyond my belief in the teachings and proclamations of faith about Easter, what does resurrection mean for my relationships, and for my life in the here and now? What does resurrection mean when I continue to make mistakes, I have bad days, I’m visited by fear and anxiety, I lose people I love, my regrets haunt me, I’ve been wounded, and I often find it impossible to forgive or receive forgiveness?”

Being human means we walk a daily path of such realities ensnaring our feet like tangled vines. Sometimes the growth is so thick we stumble and find ourselves flat on the ground, wondering what our faith has done for us lately.

For most Christians, the promise of resurrection is the main point, the trump card, and the lens through which the entire faith is viewed. This message isn’t only spoken at Easter, but proclaimed at Christian funerals and regular worship services.

But can resurrection also be embraced as an everyday reality, as a way of framing one’s understanding of how to navigate life?

It’s part and parcel of living that we go through cycles of despair and hope, sorrow and joy, disillusion and contentment. It’s also true the dark moments can linger while the brighter times may flash for only an instant.

Precisely such melancholy was expressed by one of those folks who timidly asked me the resurrection question. Her mother had recently died, her only child was moving off to college, and her relationship with her husband was crumbling. A triple-whammy. Her very identity as a daughter, parent, and spouse was in flux. She yearned for hope, renewal, restoration of normalcy, and a way to discover new meaning and purpose.

Her faith in resurrection honestly wasn’t much of a balm for the pain of her present situation. It was terrific to believe Christ rose from the dead, and her afterlife forwarding address would be in Heaven. But her immediate crying need was rebirth in this life.

Conceptually, resurrection strikes a powerful chord because it speaks to our need to glimpse hope within hopelessness. It affirms love is mightier and more enduring than any fear, any separation, and any pain. It insists acceptance, belonging, renewal and peace are real. It proclaims, “There is always another chance. Don’t give up.”

Resurrection is about loving presence. A love that is personal, protective, and persistent. A love that will not let us be abandoned. And even smack in the middle of the worst the world can hand us, it’s a love taking us by the hand and leading us to a hope-filled future. In that sense, resurrection is not limited to being a one-time event, but an ongoing reality.

For the woman above, I knew her to be a fan of Broadway musicals. I urged her to pull out her “West Side Story” album, and suggested she listen carefully to the song “Somewhere.” Conceived as a ballad between young lovers, like any great work the lyrics by Stephen Sondheim can transcend their original meaning.

I encouraged her to hear “Somewhere” in a new light, as a way of understanding the ever-present nature of resurrection:

There’s a place for us,
somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
wait for us somewhere.

There’s a time for us,
some day a time for us.
Time together with time spare,
time to learn, time to care, some day!
Somewhere.
We’ll find a new way of living.
We’ll find a way of forgiving.
Somewhere.

There’s a place for us,
a time and place for us.
Hold my hand and we’re halfway there.
Hold my hand and I’ll take you there.
Somehow, some day, somewhere!

Since we are people who love – and love is more powerful and lasting than anything – resurrection is a promise we can offer and receive daily. It is the promise of a reborn, restored, whole, and hope-filled life, available in the present.

Easter celebrates a particular moment of resurrection. But also in the realm of today and every day, we can believe in a place for us, a new way of living, a way of forgiving. A resurrection. Reach out in love. Hold another’s hand and you’re halfway there.