An Easter Meditation

The daytime sky is dark.  It has been for the past three hours.  The untimely darkness covers much, but it can’t hide the sounds of pain.  In the shadows stand three crosses, each bearing a contorted body that was once strong and fit.  Two are rebels.  One is the King of Glory.  All three will soon be dead.

The King is anything but glorious in this dark moment.  Hours earlier, soldiers spat upon him and placed a crown of thorns on his head.  His arms and feet are nailed to hard, unrelenting beams.  He hangs there in the darkness, lifted high above the earth, sweat and soldiers’ spit covering his naked body.  Trails of blood flow from his wounds, pooling beneath his feet.

He has been the object of insults and abuse.  He has been abandoned by his followers.  He hangs now between two criminals, and even they mock the King.  Glory has fled.

And now in the darkness, the powers of the present age gather in anticipation.  The King is fading.  He bows beneath their weight, and he will surely break.

He does.  In a God-forsaken moment, Jesus cries out in agony and breathes his last.  The King is dead, and hope lies forgotten in the bloody earth.

But hope will not be silenced.

In the darkness of a tomb, all is still.  Quiet lies heavy like a cloak except for the occasional rustle of soldiers who guard the entrance.  The body of the King lies dead.  Until the touch.  It is the touch of God the Father.  It is the touch of life.  The King who was dead is again alive.  Behold the resurrection!  Glory has returned.

Forgotten hope begins to sing.  She lifts her voice loud and true.  It is the song of newness.  It is the song of sunrise.  It is the song of a dawning age.  The powers that gathered will not hold sway.  Death has not triumphed.  No, God will have the last say, and he speaks words of life.  The powers are defeated, and a new age has dawned.  Jesus has won.  He has ascended.  He sits at the right hand of the Father.

The King stands victorious.  Hope sings her song.  He is our hope.  He is our glory.  He is our peace.  He is our victory.  And we now await his return.  We wait for his kingdom to be made manifest.  We wait for what was begun to be brought to completion.  We wait for a new heaven and a new earth where chaos, mourning, crying, pain, and death will have no place.  We wait for glory to be revealed in us.  We wait to see clearly face to face.  We await the King.

Even so, come Lord Jesus.

Author: Mike Smith

A disciple of Jesus who likes to write about stuff.

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