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Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday

The day that changed history began like any other.  The sun arose over the Holy City as millions were still crowded into Jerusalem from Passover.  The death of Jesus of Nazareth was not an unusual event—Rome crucified its enemies and insurrectionists all the time.  The authorities were certain that their plot had succeeded, that this upstart was dead and gone.  But with that single sunrise, the crucified carpenter became the resurrected Lord.

The stone rolled over his grave was but a pebble compared to the Rock of Ages inside.  Hardened Roman guards trembled and fainted.  Cowardly disciples became fearless apostles.  A fledgling band of frightened followers became the mightiest movement the world has ever seen.  Eleven men became more than two billion believers today.  All because of Easter.

His disciples' changed lives are testimony to the reality of the resurrection.  Men who denied Christ to servants now preached him to the highest authorities in the land.  People don't die for a lie, but more than a million Christians died in the first generations of their movement, all of them for the One they knew to be their risen Lord.  I have met him for myself, and can testify that he is who he says he is: the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  On the day he returns to this planet, all will know it's true.

A poet said it this way:

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in another village.  He worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30.  Then for 3 years he was an itinerant preacher.

He never owned a home.  He never wrote a book.  He never held an office.  He never had a family.  He never went to college.  He never put his foot inside a big city.  He never traveled 200 miles from the place where he was born.  He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness.  He had no credentials but himself.

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. While He was dying His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth – His coat. When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen long centuries have come and gone, and today He is a centerpiece of the human race and leader of the column of progress.  All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built; all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.

Is he your King?

 

The day that changed history began like any other. The sun arose over the Holy City as millions were still crowded into Jerusalem from Passover. The death of Jesus of Nazareth was not an unusual event—Rome crucified its enemies and insurrectionists all the time. The authorities were certain that their plot had succeeded, that this upstart was dead and gone. But with that single sunrise, the crucified carpenter became the resurrected Lord.

 

The stone rolled over his grave was but a pebble compared to the Rock of Ages inside. Hardened Roman guards trembled and fainted. Cowardly disciples became fearless apostles. A fledgling band of frightened followers became the mightiest movement the world has ever seen. Eleven men became more than two billion believers today. All because of Easter.

 

His disciples' changed lives are testimony to the reality of the resurrection. Men who denied Christ to servants now preached him to the highest authorities in the land. People don't die for a lie, but more than a million Christians died in the first generations of their movement, all of them for the One they knew to be their risen Lord. I have met him for myself, and can testify that he is who he says he is: the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. On the day he returns to this planet, all will know it's true.

 

A poet said it this way:

 

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in another village. He worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30. Then for 3 years he was an itinerant preacher.

 

He never owned a home. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never put his foot inside a big city. He never traveled 200 miles from the place where he was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

 

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. While He was dying His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth – His coat. When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

 

Nineteen long centuries have come and gone, and today He is a centerpiece of the human race and leader of the column of progress. All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built; all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.

 

Is he your King?

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