A Reflection on Easter and the 7 Sins

This Easter, my kids asked me a simple question — “Why do we have Easter?”

It stopped me in my tracks a little. I told them it was a time to be with family, to slow down, to rest — but the truth is, we get four days off because of a spiritual belief. Because of a story that shaped the world. At the heart of it, Easter is about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins.

Now, I’m not religious myself — but I do believe in love. I believe in being kind. I believe in trying to be a good person and doing the best I can for the people around me. And whether you’re religious or not, I hope you believe in something. Something bigger than just you. Whether it’s God, the Universe, the Earth, Spirit, Energy, Allah, Buddha — whatever it is — I think we all need something to believe in. Something that gives us a sense of meaning, a way to keep ourselves in check, and a reminder of how we can treat each other better.

We live in a world now that encourages us to worship the self — to chase validation and status and how we appear to others. But when everything is about us, it’s easy to forget that we’re part of something bigger. That we’re here to connect, to give, and to care. Not just to take.

That’s why I started thinking about the idea of sin — not in a religious or judgmental way, but as a kind of moral compass. A way to reflect on the behaviours that can hurt people when we let them take over. I don’t see sin as something to fear — I see it as something to notice in ourselves, something to grow from. We all mess up sometimes. That’s human. But we can choose to become more aware, to do better.

So, I’ve written my own reflections on the 7 Deadly Sins. Not to shame anyone — but to try and understand them. And maybe to remind myself (and anyone reading) that living with love, heart, and respect for others is always going to be a good thing.

Pride

Pride can be a good thing. It’s healthy to be proud of what you’ve achieved, what you’ve overcome, or who you’re becoming. But pride turns dangerous when it becomes about feeling better than others.

We’ve built a culture where being seen is everything. Pride starts to creep in when we need validation for every good thing we do. When it stops being about service or kindness, and starts being about recognition.

It can show up in subtle ways — not speaking to people we think are “beneath” us. Judging others for their choices, their job, their appearance, their background. Using success as a reason to disconnect instead of connect.

True pride is quiet and grounded. It lifts others, not just ourselves. When pride becomes a performance, it loses its heart. And when it becomes arrogance, it loses its humanity.

Real strength isn’t about being seen — it’s about how you walk when no one’s watching.

Greed

Greed is taking what you haven’t earned. It’s asking for more when you already have enough — not because you need it, but because you want to feel more important than someone else.

It’s expecting others to give while you give nothing. It’s sitting in comfort while asking someone else to sacrifice. Greed shows up when people have more than enough, but still feel entitled to more — just to prove they can take it.

This isn’t about working hard or enjoying success. If you’ve earned something, that’s yours to celebrate. But greed is different — it’s power without responsibility. It’s entitlement without effort.

And in the end, greed isn’t about survival — it’s about superiority. And that never leads to anything good.

Lust

Lust is often confused with love — but they’re not the same thing. Lust is about taking. It’s when you use someone for pleasure, attention, or validation, without caring about the impact on them.

Real connection isn’t rushed or taken — it’s peaceful, safe, and steady.

It’s not always physical. Lust can be emotional too — chasing connection just to feel wanted, not to build something meaningful. It’s not about presence or care. It’s about filling a momentary void with someone else’s body, energy, or affection.

Love, at its core, is generous. It sees the whole person. Lust, when it turns selfish, only sees what it can get. And the problem isn’t desire — desire is human. It’s when we stop seeing people as people, and start seeing them as something to use, that it crosses the line.

Envy

Envy is one of the most quietly destructive ones. It’s more than jealousy — it’s bitterness. It’s resenting someone for what they have, who they are, or how others love them. It can eat away at us without anyone even knowing.

Envy, like smoke, clings to what it didn’t create — and leaves a trace behind.

Sometimes envy shows up in whispers — in gossip, in trying to get others to think less of someone so we feel better. It’s the tall poppy syndrome — cutting someone down for standing tall. Trying to dim someone else’s light so we don’t feel like we’re in the dark.

But here’s the thing — envy doesn’t hurt the person you’re jealous of. It hurts you. It corrodes your joy. It keeps you stuck in comparison and bitterness. And slowly, it starts to take over how you see the world.

You don’t rise by pulling others down. You rise by doing your own work, and learning to celebrate others instead of resenting them.

Gluttony

Gluttony isn’t just about food. It’s about wanting more than you need, just to prove that you can have it. It can show up in alcohol, spending, material things, even in attention — and often it’s not about joy, it’s about status.

We’re used to seeing extreme examples of this — think of the movie Seven, the dramatic, obvious kind. But that kind of excess is easy to judge. It makes us feel like we’re not part of the problem.

But gluttony often hides in plain sight. It’s buying more than you need while others go without. It’s wasting food, money, time — just because you can. It’s consuming things to fill an emotional gap that nothing material can really fix.

It’s not just about what we’re taking. It’s also about what (and who) we’re ignoring while we take it.

Wrath

Wrath isn’t just anger — anger can be healthy, even necessary. Wrath is when that anger turns to cruelty. When we use it to punish, control, or destroy. It’s lashing out — sometimes loudly, sometimes silently — with the intention to hurt.

Wrath can show up as vandalism, cruelty, emotional manipulation, or trying to break someone down because we haven’t healed ourselves. It can look like shame, guilt-tripping, or punishing people for things they didn’t do — for pain they didn’t cause.

Unspoken anger settles in layers — until we clear it, it holds us back.

Sometimes it’s cold and calculated. Sometimes it comes from a deep wound. But when we don’t face our pain, when we refuse to heal, we end up turning that pain outward. Hurting others instead of facing what’s inside.

It’s okay to feel anger. But it’s not okay to use it as a weapon. Wrath isn’t strength — it’s pain disguised as power.

Sloth

Sloth is one of those ones that gets misunderstood. It’s not about rest — rest is important, and we all need it. It’s about what happens when we avoid showing up for life. When we know we have something to give, but choose not to.

We’ve all been given gifts — skills, passions, insights. Things that could help others, or bring a bit more light into the world. Sloth is knowing you could make a difference… and choosing not to. It’s not just laziness with effort — it’s laziness with purpose.

It’s when comfort wins over courage. When fear, doubt, or apathy keep you from stepping up. And the real loss isn’t just what doesn’t get done — it’s the people who miss out on what you were meant to bring into the world.

Even tiny things we carry can shape the world we pass on.

As a parent, I think a lot about what kind of values we’re passing on — especially during times like Easter. It’s easy for the meaning to get lost in chocolate, sales, and overindulgence. But what if we used these moments to teach something deeper?

Easter doesn’t have to be about religion for everyone — but it can still be a reminder. A time to be with family. To pause. To reflect on who we are and how we treat the people around us. It’s a chance to show our kids what it looks like to believe in something bigger than ourselves — whether that’s love, compassion, or simply doing the right thing when no one’s watching.

Because what we believe shapes how we live — and how we raise the next generation to live too.