Alive
Not sure why this Easter Season is so much more vivid this year. I have thought about the night before when He had the Last Supper and was betrayed; when those who had followed Him forsook Him and fled, and one closest to Him denied he ever knew Him. This morning I thought of His trial, his beatings, the agony of the crucifixion and I could not stop thinking of that crown of thorns on His Head. He suffered; He died; He was laid in a tomb. "For God so loved the world-----" John 3:16.
I just felt led. There was an old fence post just lying in one corner of my pasture on a little knoll. I took the old barbed wire and some long nails from the post then took an axe and split it: one of the split sections was shorted to make the crossbar. The cross was bound together with the nails and the barbed wire and I put the cross in the hole I had dug, then tamped it in. There. The old rugged cross. Yes, there it was: the semblance of that same old rugged cross that has made the difference in my life and in the lives of millions down through the ages. I stood there gazing upon it thinking that only moments before, an impotent post and a sandy piece of pasture had been transformed into a cross of hope standing out on the landscape. And I could not help but consider that before I found that cross I was much like that old post, living a life without a meaning.
I considered the barbed wire and thought of the crown of thorns He had to wear. I saw the nails and thought of those Holy hands pierced and nailed to the cross.
But, it wasn't over. It was only the beginning - I was my beginning. It can be your beginning because the cross is empty. The tomb is empty. Death was swallowed up in victory. We are no longer children of no hope. My heart is full. He lives! Praise God He is alive.
I just felt led. There was an old fence post just lying in one corner of my pasture on a little knoll. I took the old barbed wire and some long nails from the post then took an axe and split it: one of the split sections was shorted to make the crossbar. The cross was bound together with the nails and the barbed wire and I put the cross in the hole I had dug, then tamped it in. There. The old rugged cross. Yes, there it was: the semblance of that same old rugged cross that has made the difference in my life and in the lives of millions down through the ages. I stood there gazing upon it thinking that only moments before, an impotent post and a sandy piece of pasture had been transformed into a cross of hope standing out on the landscape. And I could not help but consider that before I found that cross I was much like that old post, living a life without a meaning.
I considered the barbed wire and thought of the crown of thorns He had to wear. I saw the nails and thought of those Holy hands pierced and nailed to the cross.
But, it wasn't over. It was only the beginning - I was my beginning. It can be your beginning because the cross is empty. The tomb is empty. Death was swallowed up in victory. We are no longer children of no hope. My heart is full. He lives! Praise God He is alive.
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