He is Risen...Indeed!

There will never be another act of love so pure and triumph so celebrated as the humility of the cross and the miracle of the empty tomb. ~Bonnie Jenson

In Isaiah’s day, there was no Easter. Oh, there was Easter in God’s heart. As Max Lucado says, “A plan began before Adam felt Heaven's breath." But in the BC years, there was only the hope of a Savior. The temple veil, separating the Holy of Holies (the earthly dwelling place of God’s presence) from the rest of the temple where men dwelt, was still intact.  

It was through prophecy they had the hope of a Savior.

He was beaten, he was tortured,
   but he didn’t say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
   and like a sheep being sheared,
   he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
   and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
   beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
   threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he’d never hurt a soul
   or said one word that wasn’t true.
Still, it’s what God had in mind all along,
   to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he would give himself as an offering for sin
   so that he’d see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God’s plan will deeply prosper through him. (Isaiah 53:7-9)

It's hard for us to imagine not knowing of a substitute for our sins. They were concerned about spotless goats and lambs offered as a sacrifice for their sins. Even the disciples couldn't get it straight in their minds. Oh, they wanted a Savior, but they wanted one who would reign as King.

But we -- we know Jesus was tortured, we know He was led like a lamb to be slain. We know Jesus was sinless, that He willingly gave His life for us.

And in the knowing, we sometimes neglect to appreciate the longing. That longing for a Savior, a Deliverer, a Redeemer. I've always known. I was birthed into the knowledge, birthed with The Old Rugged Cross like a lullaby singing me to sleep before I was a week old.

I don't want to forget Jesus' painful steps along the Via Dolorosa, the agony of the nails piercing His hands and feet.  I don't want to forget how my sins separated Jesus from His Father. 

Sunday, when I approach the tomb, brace my hand on the stone, and peer into the emptiness, I want my heart to be stirred. I want the jubilation of the Resurrection to burst forth in the words, "He is risen!"  Then in my heart I think I'll hear the echo of those who died before the prophecy was fulfilled, "He is risen, indeed!"

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Soli Deo Gloria