The invitation… written personally to you and me… list only one requirement… accept His Son as Savior and Lord of your life.
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As Easter approaches, I often think of how Jesus felt anticipating His journey to the cross. He faced a cup He wanted to escape. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus wrestled in prayer that God would let it pass from Him. Matthew 26:39 says, “And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as Thou wilt.”
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Three crosses stood at Calvary. On the first cross, a thief condemned by God and man. On the middle one, Jesus, the Son of God, accepted by God, yet condemned by man. On the third cross, another thief, condemned by God and man. Three crosses… three men… hours away from death. What happened on those three crosses?
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Jesus’ Resurrection… it started with a cross. A cross led to His death. His death resulted in the greatest resurrection on earth! The risen Savior brought new life, new hope, new joy! Jesus paid the penalty of our sin on the cross, so that everyone who believes in Him receives forgiveness and eternal life.
The road to the cross was the only way for Jesus to deal with sin.
When my sons Branden and Ryan were young, I would go all out at Easter time. I decorated my house with green grass, plastic eggs, and other Easter paraphernalia. I dyed six dozen eggs! Yes, seventy-two eggs. I never knew why six dozen, but it started with my mother dying that number for us when we were kids. I simply continued the tradition. I did it with my grandchildren when they lived here in Texas and I still do it with them even though they live in Sunrise, Florida. Thank God for technology that allows us to have these moments together. I realize it sounds crazy, but these activities bring back so many lovely memories.
As I put up my Easter decorations this year, I chuckled at something else I used to do when my boys were very young. I would cut out “rabbit paws,” put baby powder on them, and make footprints in the carpet which started from an outside door to the family room. The footprints led to their Easter baskets.
I fell on my last round of jogging the day before Thanksgiving of last year. I got up, looked to see if anyone saw the fall, brushed off the blood on my right knee, and ran on home. Another fall…the third one that year…no big deal…so I thought. The pain started in my left shoulder Thanksgiving Day while preparing dinner. I tried to self-heal for a month, but it got much worse. Finally, after the pain grew unbearable, I sought medical help. X-rays and a MRI revealed the dreaded diagnoses.
Monday, February 17th, after hearing I tore a tendon on my rotary cup requiring surgery and 5-6 months of physical therapy, my husband and I walked out of the orthopedic surgeon’s office and got in the car. I turned my head towards the window to hide the tears welling up in my eyes.