The color of Easter is white, the color of light, victory, purity, and resurrection. White is what comes after suffering. White is what remains when darkness is undone. White is not the absence of color; it is the fullness of it. But white is not just the color of the resurrection morning. White is the color of Christ’s eternal reign. He is alive. He is alive forever. And He holds the keys of death and Hades.

The color of Easter is white, the color of light, victory, purity, and resurrection. White is what comes after suffering. White is what remains when darkness is undone. White is not the absence of color; it is the fullness of it. But white is not just the color of the resurrection morning. White is the color of Christ’s eternal reign. He is alive. He is alive forever. And He holds the keys of death and Hades.

The color of Easter is white, the color of light, victory, purity, and resurrection. White is what comes after suffering. White is what remains when darkness is undone. White is not the absence of color; it is the fullness of it. But white is not just the color of the resurrection morning. White is the color of Christ’s eternal reign. He is alive. He is alive forever. And He holds the keys of death and Hades.

Purple is the color of royalty. In the ancient world, it was expensive, rare, and reserved for kings and emperors. And yet, we read that soldiers put a purple robe on Jesus — not to honor Him, but to mock Him. They pressed a crown of thorns into His head and bowed down, sneering: “Hail, King of the Jews!” Purple meant power. But here, purple was used to humiliate. A crown became a weapon. A robe became a joke. This is the heart of Lent: the King we follow does not enter with parades and armies, but with humility and suffering.

Purple is the color of royalty. In the ancient world, it was expensive, rare, and reserved for kings and emperors. And yet, we read that soldiers put a purple robe on Jesus — not to honor Him, but to mock Him. They pressed a crown of thorns into His head and bowed down, sneering: “Hail, King of the Jews!” Purple meant power. But here, purple was used to humiliate. A crown became a weapon. A robe became a joke. This is the heart of Lent: the King we follow does not enter with parades and armies, but with humility and suffering.

Red is the color of blood, of warning, and of sacrifice. It’s also the color of the Red Sea, where God’s people were delivered from slavery into freedom. Just as Israel passed through water from slavery to freedom, we pass through the blood of Christ from sin to salvation. During Lent, we remember that salvation came at a cost. Red reminds us of the Lamb who was slain, whose blood marks our deliverance. Just as Israel passed through water to freedom, we pass through the cross to life.

Red is the color of blood, of warning, and of sacrifice. It’s also the color of the Red Sea, where God’s people were delivered from slavery into freedom. Just as Israel passed through water from slavery to freedom, we pass through the blood of Christ from sin to salvation. During Lent, we remember that salvation came at a cost. Red reminds us of the Lamb who was slain, whose blood marks our deliverance. Just as Israel passed through water to freedom, we pass through the cross to life.

Brown reminds us of wood — rough timbers, heavy planks. Noah’s ark was made of brown wood. Brown reminds us of earth and dust, and in Lent we remember that we too are dust, and to dust we will return. The flood came. Judgment fell. But Noah and his family were safe inside the ark. We see the gospel pattern here. Sin cannot be ignored. But grace provides shelter. The ark points us to the cross. Brown wooden beams once carried Noah to safety. And another wooden cross carries us to salvation in Christ. In Christ, we are sheltered and saved.

Brown reminds us of wood — rough timbers, heavy planks. Noah’s ark was made of brown wood. Brown reminds us of earth and dust, and in Lent we remember that we too are dust, and to dust we will return. The flood came. Judgment fell. But Noah and his family were safe inside the ark. We see the gospel pattern here. Sin cannot be ignored. But grace provides shelter. The ark points us to the cross. Brown wooden beams once carried Noah to safety. And another wooden cross carries us to salvation in Christ. In Christ, we are sheltered and saved.

We start with green — the color of life and growth, but also the color that reminds us of the serpent in the Garden. After God finished His creation, He declared it was very good. It was a world in perfect harmony. Oceans pure, skies clear, foliage lush, green and fruitful, relationships whole. No sin, no shame, no death. This is how Lent begins, by remembering the good God intended. But Lent also reminds us that the beauty we long for is not the beauty we always see. Creation still groans. Our lives still ache. And the question of Lent is this: What went wrong? Why do we feel so far from Eden?