HOW DO I KNOW?

I looked into the empty tomb.  We were walking the Stations of the Cross and I was the last to look into the tomb.  Yes, the burial cloths were there.  Yes, I knew this was not the real tomb.  BUT, at that moment, I had something the women and disciples did not have.  I had the whole story.  I knew why he allowed himself to be placed on the Cross.  I knew why he suffered.  I knew why he cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).  And I knew why Jesus was taken from that tomb and why, shortly after that, he went to be with his Father.

BUT how did I become so sure?  It started when I was young.  Although my parents did not go to church with us, my brother, two sisters, and I went to Sunday School and Worship.  Later, we went to the youth group.  I heard the basics, the normal children’s stories, and painted a cross, but did these make me so sure?  No.

If I didn’t become sure by attending church, what happened?  My grandmother happened.  She could not stay by herself in the winter, so she came to live with us.  She shared a bedroom with my older sister and me.  We absolutely loved her.  And she read her Bible every day.  Not occasionally and not quickly.  She read slowly.  Reading a verse over if she did not understand.  Her Bible was never far.  It was close enough that she could reach it when her hands were tired from crocheting.  It was close enough to read before going to bed and when she woke up.  When she could no longer read, she recruited us kids.  We read verses after verses.  Sometimes it was a chore.  We had to read those books with all the names.  We had to read all 176 verses of Psalm 119.  She knew if we tried to skip even one verse.  As I watched my grandma, I saw faith.  A faith stronger than I ever saw at church.  An absolute faith!  But did that make me 100% sure?  No.  As much as I wanted to believe without question, I still had doubts.  It seemed like Jesus was for adults and children were to settle for Bible stories.

Until one Sunday.  I do not remember how old I was, but I know it was around 8.  I was sitting in church, by myself.  I don’t know where my sisters and brother were sitting.  We rarely sat together.  Hey, we were normal kids.  What kid wants to sit with their siblings?  Anyway, that is not important.  Maybe the part about sitting by myself is important.  If I had been sitting with someone, I might not have been focused on the message.  I might not have realized …..  But I was focused on the message.  I was focused when they asked if anyone wanted to come forward.  In that moment, I became the only person in that church.  In that moment, I realized it was all true.  I realized faith was for my grandma.  I realized faith was for me too.  In that moment, my very soul shouted AMEN and I stood up.  I walked forward and knelt at the altar.  I bowed my head and accepted Jesus as MY SAVIOR.  Yes, He is the Savior of every person in that church, but I finally realized for me, too.  For ME.

Do I still wonder why Jesus had to die on the Cross?  No.  He had to die for my very tiniest sin.  Even if every other person in the world were perfect, Jesus would have died to save my soul.  Jesus had to die to save the souls of Mary Magdalene, his mother, Mary, the other women, Peter, Matthew, John, Saul/Paul, and you.

When you look at the Cross, do not only see a suffering Jesus.  See a love so bright it will shine from the soul of every believer?

HAPPY EASTER