Just As He Said

“He is not here; he has risen, just as he said”(Matt 28:6).

 

Easter morning my social media sites were going crazy with people posting and tweeting the good news that Jesus is alive.  I loved it!  There’s nothing better to broadcast than the truth that changed the world.  Many friends displayed pictures of the empty tomb with the caption “HE IS RISEN!” gracing the image.  That saying is surely so and comes straight from scripture, but it’s only part of the verse. In our haste to abbreviate, we sometimes miss an important part of the message—“He has risen, just as he said”(Matt 28:6)

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“Just as he said.” Those words, announced by the angel to an astonished Mary Magdalene, were not a taunting “I told you so” but a tantalizing “He told you so.”  They were meant to jolt memories and make God’s people realize that His words are not hopeful intentions or helpful ideas but holy truth. To quote a great and Godly man, “There is a living God.  He has spoken in the Bible.  He means what He says and will do all He has promised”(Hudson Taylor).  God will do all—not part, not much, not even most. God has promised many things, and the fact that Jesus came back from death, “just as He said,” is the unconditional guarantee that He will keep them ALL.

God has said that He has adopted us as children(Eph 1:5) and forgiven and forgotten our sins(Heb 8:12).  He has said that no one can snatch us out of His hand(Jn 10:28), that nothing can separate us from His love(Rom 8:31), and that He will finish what He started(Phil 1:6).  He has said that He will provide what we need(Phil 4:19), fill us with His presence(Jn 14:23), and take us to be with Him forever(Jn 14:3).

That’s saying a lot, but God will do it all—“just as he said.”  His words are never empty; they are actions.  He spoke forgiveness on the cross and faithfulness in the cemetery.  The tomb is empty because He said so, and so He did. 

Since God kept His word on Sunday, we can trust Him to keep it on Monday.

“Just as he said.”

Hallelujah!

Good Friday

The day we call Good Friday began as an ordinary day right after the start of a holiday week.  Jerusalem bustled with busyness and business as its inhabitants and visitors cleaned up from the big Passover meal and readied for the next day’s special Sabbath.  Only twelve hours of daylight were available to accomplish all that needed to be done.  For some that was shopping; for others it was selling, but for a few it was getting rid of the guy who had caused them so much grief for the past three years.  If the Jewish chief priest, teachers of the law, and elders could just get the Roman governor, Pilate, to sentence Jesus of Nazareth to death, then surely their world would be better off.  To bolster their chances of success, they “persuaded the crowd [at the annual customary prisoner release] to ask for Barabbas [a rebel and murderer] and to have Jesus executed”(Matt 27:20).   All went according to plan, and by mid morning, the man they were so envious of and so anxious about was hanging on a cross between two thieves.  

But not long later, the smug feelings of security and success were dampened by the eerie darkness that encompassed the earth at noon, for “the sun stopped shining”(Lk 23:45), and three hours later, when the light turned back on, the ground beneath their feet “shaked, rattled, and rolled” as the man’s three final words left his mouth and his spirit left his body.  “It is finished.” 

Right then, right down the road, in the heart of the temple, the sixty feet high, four inch thick curtain that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the room was ripped in half from top to bottom filling those inside with terror and wonder.  Everyone around town joined in amazement as “tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life”(Mt 27:52).   By then, all of Jerusalem—Pilate, priest, Pharisee, soldier, and citizen—would have agreed that this was not an ordinary day.

It could not be, for this was day the Creator of the universe had planned for an entire eternity.  Every second was plotted.  Every minute was mapped out.  No character involved was a random actor without reason.  The arrest, trial, conviction, and crucifixion of Christ were not events spiraling out of control which just happened to end up in something God used for good; no, each action of every hour was divinely orchestrated and purposefully planned.  As Pilate was told straight up, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above”(Jn 19:18), and more than most, he seemed to sense the truth spoken by Jesus a few weeks before, “No one takes my life from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.  I lay down my life—only to take it up again”(Jn 10:17-18).

Good Friday. 

We say it’s good because of what God did—painfully, horrifically, unfathomably splitting Himself apart so He could bring us together.  Paying the debt of death we owed.  Taking the shame of sin we should suffer.  Bearing the brutality and burden of our rebellion so we could repent, return, and be redeemed.  “Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior.  But now God has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation”(Col 1:21-22).

Good Friday.

There will never be another day like it, and no day will ever be the same because of it.

Amen and Amen.

Around The Table

Last night we sat around the supper table for a long time. Over pots of cheese and chocolate fondue we recounted happenings of the day and raised hopes for tomorrow.  We relived old memories and made new ones.  We discussed important ideas and chatted about trivial topics.  Homework was put on hold, lesson planning was delayed, and the ringing phone was ignored while we lived, laughed, and loved—a family at home having a good time together.  

The scene in our dining room was surely divine because good times around a table are a reflection of the heart of God—intimate, engaging, passionate, uplifting, and fulfilling.  During His last Passover meal, when Jesus explained the upcoming events to the eleven disciples left in the upper room, He used the idea of being at home together.  “My Father’s house has many rooms.  I’m leaving to go get yours ready, but I’ll be back and will take you to be with me there”(Jn 14:2-3).  To calm their fears of being alone in the between, Jesus promised His presence would move right in. “The Father and I will come to you and make our home with you”(Jn 14:23).   What could be better than God making our heart His home and claiming us as His own?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  

As Good Friday draws near and we consider Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, we need to make sure we continually realize and constantly remember that Jesus didn’t die so we could have religion or rituals.  He died so we could be in relationship.  The pain of Good Friday and the power of Super Sunday had one purpose—“To redeem us from our wickedness and purify for himself a people that are his very own”(Titus 2:14).  The blood streaming from Jesus’ side brought us together.  He saved us from a hopeless, horrid eternity so we could live, laugh, and love—in short, so we could glorify Him and enjoy Him forever.  

Put what the world considers pressing on hold.  Delay what culture declares urgent.  Let the calls for self-sufficiency go unanswered.  The God of the universe has made your reservation and pulled out your chair.

Christ’s blood brought you to His family table.

Sit down and enjoy your supper.