Was it a morning like this?

I have to admit that when it comes to holidays, especially Easter, I tend to revert back to my musical roots. Don't stone me, but the first Christian concert I ever attended was when Sandy Patti OPENED for the Imperials.

And the song I sing every Easter sunday morning is a Sandy Patti song. Was it a morning like this when the sun still hid from Jerusalem . . . (I can't type it right now because my husband just put on Third Day.)

At any rate, it was even more in my spirit today because there were some marked similarities this morning between me and the ladies attending Jesus. They were getting up to anoint the dead body of the Lamb of God; I also was getting up to anoint a dead lamb. Well, to be more accurate, it was only part of a dead lamb. It's been in my freezer for longer than is customary because it's been waiting for an Easter when I had time to tend it, one where I had no responsibilities for the community Easter celebration. That'd be today.

And really, she was just as surprised to see her Lamb risen as I would have been had mine grown a body and been lying asleep in my fridge (and without being sacrilegious, I think I can say that would have been even more miraculous, since it had been dead, well, a long time, and had no body)(and everybody knows you can't breathe in a refrigerator).

But I love that song. I cannot sing it without weeping.

Did the grass shout? Did the earth rejoice to feel You again? The longing and groaning of creation for the Son of God to come in His glory. On no other day is the word Hallelujah more appropriate.

I know, He doesn't die again and rise again every Easter. But I am not born again every year on my birthday, and I still like to party.

My Lord was dead. He died for me. He shed real blood, wept real tears, His flesh was torn on my behalf. He was publicly humiliated on my behalf, became of no reputation, was mocked, beaten, naked. For me. It is real. It really happened.

And then he was gone. Unreachable. For a whole horrible awful no good very bad Sabbath day He was somewhere they couldn't get to. And it seemed to be forever. All their hope was gone. All their lives had been laid down, and for what. He was made a fool, even to those who loved Him. And they were the fools who followed Him. How stupid they must have felt. And betrayed by a false hope of redemption and freedom.

But their perspective was limited. He could have given them what they wanted. Limited political freedom. He could have set them free. Instead, He set me free. Them and me and you and all who would say yes to that freedom.

Does the grass seem to sing beneath your feet today? Can you hear the wind calling out? The stars were talking about Him last night, though clouds hid them from us. Planets at the other end of the universe proclaim Him. All of creation sings, shouts, declares the glory of God.

Do you know why? It can't help it. It cannot contain it.

Nor can I. My joy is full. My redeemer lives. He shed His blood for me, He died, He conquered death, hell, the grave and MY sin. I am free, I am loved, I am forgiven, I am His.

Hallelujah, Jesus is alive!