Growing up as a boy, I was not allowed to have candy of any kind. There was a history of sugar diabetes in our family, so my parents were overly cautious about any consumption of sugar. Even today I am not a great fan of candy—I do like ice cream, however.
I remember very clearly Easter Sunday when I was just four years old. We were living far north in Bridgewater, Maine, where my dad pastored the Baptist Church in that small rural community. Easter was early that year and for Maine it was a springlike day. The sun was shining, a few mounds of snow still remained, but it was warm for Maine. I was ready to go to church as usual on a Sunday morning, waiting out in the yard to get into our 1950 Chevy for the short ride. As I waited there, one of the members of the church stopped in front of the parsonage and got out of the vehicle carrying a small plastic truck. The small bed of the plastic truck was full of candy bars, and he presented it to me saying, “Happy Easter!”
Knowing that I was not supposed to have any candy, I was speechless, but at the same time very excited about the truck. I quickly carried it into the house and my parents came out and thanked the church member for his kindness. And then, surprisingly, they told me that I could eat the candy, but only one candy bar each day until it was all gone. I was a little reluctant, but after tasting one of those candy bars, it was a “sweet Easter.”
Our young people often use the term “sweet” to describe things that are really good, even if they do not contain sugar. A game could be “sweet,” or a song could be “sweet,” or a vacation trip could be “sweet.” My story about the candy on Easter reminds me that Easter is always “sweet.” It is sweet, not because we often have baskets with candy, it is sweet because our greatest enemy and fear was conquered on that first Easter Sunday. We no longer must fear death because Christ is risen. And, that is sweet!
