I was raised in the church. Easter has always been an important time, but this year the significance seems overwhelming.
The mocking. The vicious whipping. The sound of exhaustion dragging heavy wood. The echo of the hammers ring. Crushing. Tearing. Real sweat and blood and flesh. Humiliation. The crown of thorns.
After this year, after this season in my personal life, I am more deeply humbled by the sacrifice. I am more deeply thankful for the truth of the resurrection.
Jesus Christ opened his eyes on the third day. Freed himself of the burial linens. Felt his way through the cool darkness of the tomb…and walked out into the light of day. I have to believe he enjoyed a moment with his creation. The sun warming his face as his eyes adjust to daylight; the scent of fresh air as he filled his lungs to take it all in. It had to be a beautiful day.