My sins died on Good Friday. On Passover Saturday, my judgment was passed over. And on Easter, I rise.

Easter isn’t an egg, a ditty, a bunny, a time when you have to go to church, a new dress, or a tip of the hat to Jesus. Easter isn’t a study of the history of the holiday or even an admiration of Jesus. No.

Good Friday is when I look in the grave and see every shred–every single shred–of my sin buried forever. My sin was buried inside the body of the perfect Christ. The body that died to sin once, for all, FOREVER.

Passover is when I learn not to fear the wrath of God because I have not one sin left in my soul. There is not one sin that I must bear to show Him. All of my sin–every evil–is where on Passover? Still left in Christ’s tomb. Paid in full by HIM. FOREVER.

And Easter. Oh, Easter! Easter is when Jesus was my Grave Digger and He pulled my rotten corpse out of death. In an instant, my soul was transformed from the crumbling, crusty puke of this world to the living, breathing, heart-thudding delight of friendship with GOD. FOREVER.

This is what Easter means to me.

Is it what Easter means to you?

Published in: on April 20, 2014 at 7:05 am  Leave a Comment  
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