NEWS FROM THE HILLS
When I came home from the hospital last week, I found that spring had burst forth in the hills. The change was truly amazing. Pear trees had exploded into a solid mass of white blossoms, and sarvisberry (serviceberry) bushes were hung with waving, white banners.
Peach trees were decked out with delicate pink blooms, and crabapples trees were covered with a darker shade of pink. Forsythia bushes were dripping with their brilliant yellow blossoms. Daddy called them “Showers of Gold,” and I can see why he did.
Their wild counterpart, spicewood (spicebush) was blooming in the woods, a paler yellow flower that is also called “forsythia of the wilds.” Altogether, it was a glorious springtime display of nature that made the heart glad.
As the sun rose this morning on a world coming alive with the freshness of springtime, I began thinking about the women who followed Jesus to the cross. Was it a morning like this when they made their journey to the tomb to perform their labor of love for their Master?
In my mind, I can see them as they prepare to go . . .
It was still dark when the women arose from their beds, hurriedly put on their garments, and started up the path to the sepulcher where the body of Jesus lay. The pine torch flickered, sending out a warm smell of resin that blended pleasantly with the sweet odor of the spices that they carried to anoint his body.
In the predawn stillness, not a bird sang, and the only sound heard was the soft slap of the women’s sandals as they made their way to the tomb. They wrapped their robes a little tighter against the early morning chill, and talked in muted tomes about their beloved master, Jesus.
The uppermost thought in their minds was the huge stone that was sealing the door to the sepulcher, for none of them were able to roll it away.
Events had happened so fast the last few days that they were still bewildered by it all. Jesus, whom they loved and followed, had been taken and crucified three days before, and his body had been placed in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathaea.
They were sorrowful and confused, and somewhat apprehensive. It was that darkest hour just before dawn, and undoubtedly the darkest hour of their lives. Their whole world had fallen apart.
Thin streaks of light were appearing in the sky as they neared the tomb, and daylight was breaking fast. To their amazement, the huge stone that they had worried about was rolled away from the door of the sepulcher. Entering the tomb, they found that the body of Jesus was gone.
They were perplexed and uncertain, and more than a little bit frightened. There were confused accounts afterward, but suddenly there were two men in shining garments who appeared beside them and told them that Jesus of Nazareth, whom they were seeking, was no longer there. He had risen.
The message is loud and clear today, “He has risen!” Sadly, many people think that the celebration of Easter means a new outfit, and the yearly trip to church to display it. Most children connect it only with baskets of candy, colored eggs, and the Easter Bunny.
Even sadder is the fact that people who realize that Easter is the commemoration of our Lord’s resurrection are untouched by it unless the experience of salvation is in their own hearts.
As I mused about the women who went to the tomb in the darkness of the early morning, I thought about my own life and how it was before I met Jesus. I walked in darkness, in fear, and in dread. There was a heavy stone in my heart, and I couldn’t begin to roll it away.
Then in that darkest hour just before dawn, when it felt as if my world was also falling apart, the Spirit of God rolled the stone away, and Jesus came in and began to live. He told me that he cast my sins away, as far as the east is from the west, to be remembered against me no more.
He gave me “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness”—Isaiah 61:3. The wonderful thing is that it didn’t stop with the work of salvation.
It has been many years since I was first saved, but Jesus is still alive and joyful in my heart. He walks with me every day, for he has promised he will never leave or forsake me. Truly, he is sweeter today than the day I was saved because of the road we have traveled together.
He is my guide, my counselor, my hope and my comfort. I can recommend Jesus to you because he is the best friend I have ever had. If he has not risen in your heart, my friend, then you are missing it all. When you find him, than you can say with me, “Rejoice! King Jesus lives today!”
THE CROSS WAS HIS OWN
Author unknown
They borrowed a bed to lay His head
When Christ the Lord came down;
They borrowed the ass in the mountain pass
For Him to ride to town;
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
Were His own—
The Cross was His own.
He borrowed the bread when the crowd He fed
On the grassy mountain side,
He borrowed the dish of broken fish
With which He satisfied.
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
Were His own—
The Cross was His own.
He borrowed the ship in which to sit
To teach the multitude;
He borrowed a nest in which to rest—
He had never a home so rude;
But the crown that he wore and the Cross that He bore
Were His own—
The Cross was His own.
He borrowed a room on His way to the tomb
The Passover Lamb to eat;
They borrowed a cave for Him a grave,
They borrowed a winding sheet.
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
Were His own—
The Cross was His own.
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