Today sitting in church with the boys I was reminded that Easter is approaching. Somehow with all the snow I’d forgotten this.
When we remember how God the Father, out of his love for the world sent his Son to live in this world as one of us. How Jesus willingly did not cling to equality with God as something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, and humbled himself to death – even death on a cross.
That death is the greatest miracle of Easter. That God’s power could raise the Son of God, God incarnate from death is not a great surprise, but that Jesus should taste death for us is almost incredible – and yet he did.
So we celebrate that death, where we no longer need to fear death, and we celebrate that resurrection where we are raised to new life in him. Or as our 4 year old put it today standing at the model of the empty tomb. “The tomb is empty – and that means Jesus gives us his good things, and he takes our bad things.”
The hymn writer for today put it like this: “My Saviours love to me, love to the loveless shown that they might lovely be” – it is hard to find a more beautiful summary of the gospel than that. So read and ponder and pray and praise. This Easter stop and remember God’s love to us displayed so vividly in the events of that first Easter week.
My song is love unknown,
My Savior’s love to me;
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
My Lord should take, frail flesh and die?
He came from His blest throne
Salvation to bestow;
But men made strange, and none
The longed for Christ would know:
But O! my Friend, my Friend indeed,
Who at my need His life did spend.
Sometimes they strew His way,
And His sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day
Hosannas to their King:
Then “Crucify!” is all their breath,
And for His death they thirst and cry.
Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
He gave the blind their sight,
Sweet injuries! Yet they at these
Themselves displease, and ’gainst Him rise.
They rise and needs will have
My dear Lord made away;
A murderer they saved,
The Prince of life they slay,
Yet cheerful He to suffering goes,
That He His foes from thence might free.
In life, no house, no home
My Lord on earth might have;
In death no friendly tomb
But what a stranger gave.
What may I say? Heav’n was His home;
But mine the tomb wherein He lay.
Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King!
Never was grief like Thine.
This is my Friend, in Whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.