What Will They Remember?

It’s Not Just Harmless Fun—A Call to Clarity, Conscience, and Christ-Centered Devotion at Easter

There are moments in the life of a believer when conviction does not fade with time, but deepens. It is not always loud, but it is persistent. It does not come from anger, but from a growing weight of sorrow—a heaviness of heart over what we begin to see more clearly.

For me, that conviction is not theoretical. It is shaped by where I have come from. Having once lived in a place where truth and deception were intertwined, where spiritual language was blended and clarity obscured, my concern is not abstract. It is personal. It is experiential.
And it raises a question that cannot be easily set aside:

Are we (the Church), even unintentionally, creating the same kind of mixture within the Church that we were once called out of?

This question often surfaces during what should be the most sacred time in the Christian faith. We gather to remember the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, to reflect on the cost of sin, and to celebrate the resurrection that stands at the center of our hope.

This is not simply a tradition.
It is the foundation of everything we believe.

And yet, in the middle of this holy remembrance, many churches include something else—something widely accepted, culturally familiar, and often defended as harmless.

An Easter egg hunt.

For many Christians, there is no tension here. It is joyful. It brings families together. It creates excitement for children and offers a way to engage the community.

These are not wrong desires. The longing to welcome others and to create spaces of joy reflects something good within the heart of the church.

But sincerity does not remove the need for discernment.

Scripture calls us not only to good intentions but to careful examination. 
“Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21).

The question before us is not whether something is enjoyable or effective in gathering people.
The question is whether it is faithful.

Are we being faithful to Christ, faithful to the gospel, and faithful to the people we are called to disciple?

At the heart of this discussion is not simply what is permissible, but what is formative.

Every practice within the Church shapes

• our affections
• our attention
• our understanding

Ultimately, those practices shape our devotion and form our understanding of what Christianity is.

So we must ask:
Does what we are doing draw us more fully toward Christ--or divide our attention between Him and something else?

Scripture calls us to a singular devotion. “Keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21).
Idolatry is not always obvious. Sometimes it is the quiet presence of something that competes for meaning, shares symbolic space, or softens the clarity of where Christ alone should remain central.

When we place non-biblical symbols within the most sacred remembrance of Christ’s death and resurrection, we must ask whether we are maintaining that clarity or unintentionally diminishing it.

Syncretism rarely begins with open rejection of truth. It begins with addition.
Throughout history, movements such as Gnosticism and systems like Haitian Vodou developed not through immediate denial of God, but through gradual blending—combining truth with outside ideas until clarity was lost.

That is how drift happens.

Not all at once.
But slowly.
Quietly.
Unexamined.

The concern is not that a single event defines syncretism.

But rather, are we introducing elements that, over time, blur what should remain unmistakably clear?

Are additions shaping perception in ways that blur the uniqueness of the gospel over time?
 
We are not the only ones interpreting our practices.

In a culture where many are exploring spirituality through systems such as Wicca and other nature-based beliefs, symbols carry meaning. Eggs and rabbits are not always seen as neutral. They are often associated with fertility, seasonal renewal, and cycles of life.

When those same symbols appear within a Christian setting, they may not be interpreted as harmless. They may be seen as familiar. And what feels familiar is often dismissed.

Perception matters, especially to those outside the church.

Rather than encountering something distinct, they encounter something that feels blended. Another variation of what they already believe. And what feels blended is often dismissed.

And that weakens our witness.

There is another group we must consider carefully: those who are new to the Christian faith.

Many believers are still learning what it means, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). Many are just beginning to discover:

• what it means to follow Christ
• how to renew their minds
• how to distinguish what is holy from what is of the world

For a mature believer, it may be easy to distinguish between what is cultural and what is essential. For a new believer, it is not.

When cultural and worldly traditions are placed alongside the gospel, they are often received as part of Christianity itself. And in doing so, the Church may unintentionally model and teach a blended faith—one where truth and worldly traditions exist side by side without clear distinction.

Over time, this can weaken our discernment and make it more difficult to recognize compromise in other areas.

Paul speaks directly to this issue when he writes, “All things are lawful, but not all things are helpful… not all things edify” (1 Corinthians 10:23) or build faith.

The question is not simply what is allowed, but what strengthens the faith of others.

And even more directly he warns: “Be careful… that your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak” (1 Corinthians 8:9). If even a portion of the body is confused or hindered, this is something to take seriously.

And it leads us to a deeper question—one that reaches into the formation of the heart.

What will people remember?

When children and families participate in a weekend that includes both the remembrance of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection with activities such as hunting for plastic Easter eggs filled with candy or prizes, those experiences do not remain separate.

They are woven together in memory, shaping not only what is remembered, but what is most treasured.

And over time, what is most vivid is often not what is most sacred, but what is most stimulating.

• The laughter
• The activity
• The reward

 
So we must ask honestly, when someone looks back on the weekend we hosted, What will they remember most? What will feel central to them years from now?

Will it be the cross, the reality of sin, the grace of God, and the victory of the resurrection?
Or will it be something else, placed alongside it?

Ask kids at church next weekend, what were their favorite parts about Easter weekend. Their answers are the memories we are shaping.

Scripture shows us that remembrance is not casual.

In Exodus 12, the Passover was established with intention and clarity, pointing to Christ. Jesus continued that pattern in Luke 22:14–20, and the Church was instructed to remember Him in 1 Corinthians 11:23–26 in particular ways.

These moments were not supplemented with additional symbols. They were centered entirely on what God had done. Nothing was added that could compete for our attention. Because:

• What we remember shapes what we value.
• What we value shapes our devotion.

This also leads us to consider the stewardship of the church. The time, energy, and resources entrusted to us are given for a purpose. They are meant to reflect the priorities of Christ and to build up His body. The early church devoted themselves to teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42–47). While this does not dictate every form of activity the modern church can do, it establishes a pattern of Christ-centered focus.

When significant resources are directed toward activities that are not rooted in Scripture and that may carry mixed meaning, it is reasonable to ask whether those resources are being used in a way that most clearly reflects the mission of the Church.

For leadership, this is an opportunity—not a threat. Leadership carries a sacred responsibility in shaping how the Church remembers, teaches, and represents Christ. When concerns are raised about how practices surrounding our Easter or resurrection celebrations—such as events like egg hunts—may affect clarity, conscience, or our witness, they should not be dismissed without thoughtful engagement.

Not every concern or difficult question is an attack or the enemy.

Sometimes these questions or concerns are an invitation to grow in discernment, looking at the spiritual weight they carry. They also present an opportunity for greater refinement and unity. As faithful leadership listens carefully, weighs concerns against Scripture, and seeks to guide the body of Christ with both truth and grace, these questions turn into blessings.
And at the same time, believers not in leadership who carry and raise concerns must do so with humility. Our call is not to accuse or judge intentions as evil but to speak truth in love, pursuing unity. Our convictions don’t give us license to encourage division, hatred, or disrespect our brothers and sisters who disagree.

Conviction and unity are not enemies.

Our convictions should not be a call to remove joy from the church or disengage from community and fellowship with those who disagree. Ours is a call to align our expressions of joy with the truth.

The Church is not limited to copying cultural traditions that carry and promote mixed meanings. We can create experiences that are engaging, meaningful, and rooted in Scripture, without eggs or bunnies. We can create opportunities that do not simply entertain, but that clearly and consistently point to Christ.

Imagine if the Church promoted during the holy resurrection weekend events that only focused on:

• a resurrection-centered journey
• a gospel-based story experience
• interactive teachings that lead families to Christ

Not less engagement—but more clarity.

Ultimately, this is not about Easter eggs. It is not about preference or tradition.
In the end, this is about Christ.
It is about devotion.

• Does what we are doing draw us more fully toward Christ?
• Does it strengthen the clarity of the gospel?
• Does it build up the faith of believers and present a clear witness to those outside the church?

In our desire to engage culture, have we allowed culture to shape how we present Christ?

The gospel does not need to be supplemented to be compelling.

The gospel simply needs to be seen clearly.

If we are willing to pause, to listen, and to examine our practices together, this does not have to become a point of division. It can become a moment of refinement—a chance to pursue clarity over familiarity, faithfulness over convenience, and Christ, fully and unmistakably, at the center of everything we do.

That’s a goal worth pursuing together.