From Live and Lead, my monthly newsletter to my readers
Dear friends,
Happy Easter! As we enter the Easter season, I find myself lingering with a simple question:
Where might new life be quietly unfolding in my everyday experience?
Easter is not only a day we celebrate—it is a season that invites us to slow down and notice what the Risen Christ is making new. Often, we expect resurrection to arrive with abundant clarity, energy, and palpable joy. Yet, more often than not, our experience of resurrection comes gently. Subtly. In ways we might miss if we are not paying attention.
I’ve been reflecting on how easy it is to rush past this season—to move quickly back into the demands, responsibilities, and noise of daily life. We are close to the end of another school year, and our ministry year is wrapping up as well. And yet, the Risen Christ keeps whispering an invitation: Stay here a little longer. Let hope sink in. Be present to the new life.
The Risen Christ rarely announces new life all at once. Rather, new life emerges slowly in our ordinary moments:
- a deeper breath after a long season of heaviness.
- a renewed desire to pray after feeling dry or distracted.
- a small but meaningful “yes” where we once felt stuck.
- a growing connection in a relationship.
- a moment of meaning and purpose in our daily work.
This is the work of the Risen Christ unfolding the resurrection in our lives—slow, patient, and deeply personal.
As you pray and live these weeks, I invite you to gently ask:
- What is unfolding within me and in my life right now?
- Where do I sense hope, even in small ways?
- What might I be invited to trust, release, or begin again?
You don’t need to have clear answers. Simply noticing is enough. Easter reminds us that transformation doesn’t depend on our effort alone—it unfolds through the Risen Christ. Our part is to make space, stay present, and allow the Risen Christ to meet us exactly where we are.
My prayer for you in this Easter season is this:
May you notice the quiet movements of grace in your life.
May hope feel accessible, even if it feels fragile.
May you trust that new life is possible—right here, in the midst of your ordinary days.
Know that I am holding you in prayer as we continue to walk this season together.
Peace,
Becky
Becky Eldredge
April 9, 2026