Easter was last week. The lilies are gone. The extra chairs have been put away. After all the services, all the expectations, all the energy of Easter morning - this week has been pretty ordinary. Dull, even.

Here is the thing about resurrection that we don't talk about enough: it doesn't wait for you to feel it. The tomb was empty on Monday. It was empty on Tuesday. It was empty on that Wednesday when the disciples were probably wondering what exactly they were supposed to do next. The cosmic hinge of history swung, and life still had to be lived, one unremarkable day at a time.

We tend to treat Easter like a finish line. The build of Lent, the weight of Holy Week, the explosion of Sunday morning, and then ordinary, dull. But resurrection was never meant to be the destination. It was always meant to be the catalyst.

What if a dull week is not a sign that we aren't made new again after another Easter celebration? What if ordinary Tuesday and dull Wednesday is exactly where resurrection does its quietest and most stubborn work?

The disciples didn't stay in the upper room forever. Something moved them. It wasn't a dramatic voice from heaven at first, it was the need to do something ordinary and familiar, which for them was to go fishing. And guess what happened in the middle of their ordinary and boring day? Yep, an encounter with the Risen Christ. Then came the slow, dawning, impossible-to-ignore sense that the story wasn't over, and neither were they.

Boring Tuesday and Dull Wednesday aren't signs that you don't have a purpose, Reader, they are incubators.

Incubation isn't abandonment. The egg in the nest isn't forgotten; it's becoming. And so are you, in your dull week, in your quiet Tuesday, in the Wednesday that feels unproductive.

The disciples went fishing because they didn't know what else to do with grief that had no category, and hope that was still too new to trust. They went because their hands needed something to do. And resurrection, stubborn and relentless and unwilling to leave them small, met them on the water anyway. That's the nature of God's work; it doesn't wait for you to be ready. It finds you mid-yawn on a weekday afternoon, in the ordinary, in the middle of the life you already have, and it moves you forward into the person you are becoming.

My wish for you this week is the grace to trust your Tuesday. You are not stuck. You are not forgotten. You are not behind. You are becoming, and the same stubborn, relentless love that met those disciples on the water is already at work in the middle of your ordinary day, moving you forward, whether you feel it yet or not. That's the fiLLLed life.

Live a fiLLLed life, Melissa