Conquering Death

The last three days had been horrible. The man with whom they’d spent three years traveling Judah had been arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. He’d been dragged off by soldiers and brought before the Sanhedrin. Accused of blasphemy, he was sent on to Pilate.

The Roman ruler didn’t know what to make of Jesus. He couldn’t find any crime for which the man should die. When he offered a choice of releasing a notorious killer named Barabbas and their friend Jesus, an angry mob cried out for the criminal.

The disciples were horrified. Their friend was taken away to be crucified. They hurried into hiding, fearing they could be next. Scourged, stripped of his garments, and bleeding from a crown of thorns the soldiers taunted him as he carried his own cross to Calvary. Hours passed and death came. They buried him in a borrowed tomb.

Now it was Sunday, after the Sabbath, the first day of the week. Mary Magdalene and another Mary went to the tomb to prepare the body of Jesus for burial. But when they arrived the tomb was open, the burial shroud laying inside, the body gone. They raced back to tell the disciples.

Jesus had risen from the dead, as he had said he would. In the next forty days He would be seen by many witnesses. His disciples would behold his wounds—the nail prints in his hands, the place in his side where he had been pierced. All of his suffering would be over, His eternal place beside God the Father secured.

Why?

Why would anyone go through that?

He died for you. And me. For all of us.

I John 4:14: “The Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world.” He gave his life and shed his blood to redeem you and me from sin. To make us pure before a righteous God. Believing in Him assures us a place in heaven, for all of eternity.

That’s the true message of Easter. Have you believed?

 

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