He is not here.

Matthew 28:5-7 The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

He is not here; he has risen.

I traveled up to my hometown this past weekend. It was my niece’s confirmation and I wanted to be there for the important occasion and celebration. On Saturday, in between preparations, I slipped away to take a walk to the cemetery where Mom and Dad are both buried.  As I made my way along the path, a sort of sadness overtook me. And as I stood at their gravesides, I waited for the tears to come. But they didn’t.

He is not here; he has risen.

In the midst of my sadness a jolt of hope entered in. I remembered this well-known verse from the Easter season--a reminder from God and a promise: my parents weren’t there anymore either. Mom wasn’t there in that grave. Not the true part of her. Dad wasn’t either. They were gone to a much better place. Because of their faith in Jesus, my parents are very much alive. In a beautiful and perfect place that I can’t even begin to imagine.

He is not here; he has risen.

Yesterday morning, my little girl asked how old Grandma Toie is. Not how old she was when she died, but how old she is now. It would have been so easy to say, ‘Well, honey when she died she was seventy.’ And I nearly found myself saying those very words to her. But a small smile came to my lips and I realized that the faith of my child was strong and sure. Grandma Toie is very much alive. ‘She’s 71,’ I said. Satisfied with that answer Katie went back to eating her bowl of cereal. Then I asked her a question, ‘Do you suppose they celebrate birthdays in heaven?’ And we all agreed that, yes, they must.

He is not here; he has risen.

The other day, I told a story about when I was a little girl and did a very silly thing. Mom had made mint chocolate brownies, my favorite. One afternoon, while she was visiting with some of her friends, I snuck into the kitchen and found them and proceeded to eat half the pan. Half. When I had finished telling her the story, my daughter got a twinkle in her eye. “Mom, I can’t wait to get to heaven because I’m going to tell on you.”

“Tell on me?” I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to tell Grandma Toie that you ate all those brownies.” Then she skipped off happy as could be in the knowledge that someday she would get to “tell on me.”

He is not here; he has risen.

Because Jesus lives, we also will live. Death will not have the final say. Someday, it will be swallowed up in victory. During this joyous Easter season may we, with child-like faith, trust and believe this most important message:

He is not here; he has risen.

Katie’s Poem

 

At first I didn’t want you.

‘A boy would be nice,’ I thought,

Someone for him to play with,

A pal, a buddy for life.

 

Then came my birthday,

a beautiful day.

For the first time we got a glimpse of you.

Inside of me you twisted and turned.

You kicked your leg up and yawned.

You were alive, oh so alive,

and my heart swelled with joy.

“It’s a girl,” we were told

and suddenly,

you were exactly what I’d hoped for,

exactly what I wanted.

 

 

 Then the day came.

With a push and a shout

You entered into our world.

Laughing at your tiny face puckered up in misery,

we welcomed you.

You were beautiful.

Holding you in my arms,

I marveled at your tiny hands, your tiny feet.

You were my precious baby girl.

The girl I thought I didn’t want.

 

 But it didn’t stop there.

We took you home.

We brought you to your brother.

His eyes glimmered with delight when he saw you.

‘What was this?’ he wondered,

and the possibilities of brotherhood

s t r e t c h e d out before him.

The dog came and, mildly interested,

sniffed at you.

But he turned his back.

‘Not another one,’

he seemed to be saying.

You had entered into our hearts and our lives;

you who I thought I didn’t want.

 

 

Many times since then I’ve held you in my arms.

Our eyes lock when I feed you,

and we study one another –

sharing secrets of the life to come.

Secrets that only a mother and daughter

can understand.

It’s in those moments that I know;

I will never grow tired of you,

I will never run out of love for you,

but most of all

I will never again think that I don’t want you.

What he chooses to remember

Ever thought God was a meanie? Unfair, unloving, unkind. Punishing us for even the most minor of infractions. Ignoring our tears. Ignoring our cries for help. Yup, that’s God summed up in a nutshell, or is it?

I think God deserves a break, and here’s why. Have you ever thought about what God forgets and what he chooses to remember? If you haven’t ever really considered it, allow me to let scripture shed some light on the subject.

Let’s start with what God forgets. Our sin.

^{Psalm 103:11} For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
   so great is his love for those who fear him;
¹² as far as the east is from the west,
   so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

Doesn’t sound so mean or unfair to me. Sounds kind of good actually. Like something I don’t really deserve. You may have read this one before and felt comforted and encouraged to know that God’s love is as big as it gets. It’s helped me, but up until a recent lesson in a bible study by Beth Moore, I hadn’t thought too much about just how complete God’s forgiveness is. Then I came across a verse that literally awed me.

^{Micah 7:19} You will again have compassion on us;
   you will tread our sins underfoot
   and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.

God’s a meanie, huh? Really? The one who hurls our sins into the depths of the sea: never thinking about them, never holding a grudge, never deep sea diving for them. It’s almost like he forgets about them, or rather, in Christ, he chooses to forget them.

So, what does God decide to remember? Our tears. A few years back, I stumbled across this verse in the book of Psalms;

^{Psalm 56:8} You keep track of all my sorrows.^[a]
      You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
      You have recorded each one in your book.

At that time in my life, things were pretty tough, and, like most of you, I shed a lot of tears that seemed to go unnoticed. But when I came across this verse, it was like balm to my soul. God records each one of my tears? Wow. What a mind blowing thought; the God of the universe knows and records every single tear I’ve ever shed? He collects them. Like a priceless treasure.

Why, why would he do that? Because the most important choice God makes when it comes to his creation is love. He loves us. Plain and simple. He hates that we hurt. He hates that we cry. And, in his almighty goodness, he chooses to remember our tears. Just so we don’t think he doesn’t care. Just so we don’t think he isn’t with us.

^{Revelation 7:17} For the Lamb at the center of the throne
   will be their shepherd;
‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’^[a]
   ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’^[b]”

Did you catch that? Not some. Not a few. Not most. Every. Every tear will be wiped away from our eyes, mine, yours, God sees them all. He cares about them all.

I’ll admit it is easy to think that God is mean. It is. But, hopefully, today you’ve gained a little perspective. Remember these two simple yet important things: God chooses to forget our sins, God chooses to collect our tears. And when we come home to heaven, he is prepared to wipe each and every one of them away.

What a Friend

Today I was thinking about what a friend we have in Jesus. Remember that hymn? It was one of my favorites when I was a kid. I loved to sing it in church, and, back then, it really was true. Even if no one else got me, Jesus did. What a friend, right?

Nowadays, I think of Jesus as my friend, but there are times when I wish I could have been his friend while he lived on earth. What was he like? Did he joke? Did he cry and give hugs when he knew someone was hurting? In the Bible, we don’t get a lot of details about feelings. It’s the story plain and simple. But I have to believe that Jesus was a likable, even lovable, kind of guy. Take, for example, this little gem of a verse found in Luke 2:52:

⁵² And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

This verse comes after the story of the boy, Jesus, in the temple. I love it. He grew in favor with God and men. You know what that says to me? People liked him. They really liked him. Not because he was the Son of God. Nobody really knew that except for Mary and Joseph, and sometimes even they forgot.

Take, for example, the event that took place just before the above verse. Mary and Joseph had gone to Jerusalem and were on their way home when it occurred to them that Jesus was nowhere to be found. Mary and Joseph frantically searched Jerusalem looking for their oldest, until they found him in the most unlikely place . . .  

After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. ⁴⁷ Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. ⁴⁸ When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

⁴⁹ “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”^{[f] 50} But they did not understand what he was saying to them.

When Mary and Joseph found him in the temple it says that they were astonished. Makes me wonder what astonished them. The fact that he’d been there for three days seemingly indifferent to the panic they must be feeling, or were they astonished for a completely different reason? Maybe because Jesus, their first born, had always been so responsible, kind, caring, obedient. This was completely out of character for him.

And I have to admit that when I heard that story as a child, it seemed so out of sync with the very nature of who Jesus is. But, the more I think about it, the more it seems that something was going on that needed to be dealt with. Jesus was twelve. In another eighteen years or so, he would begin his ministry. I think God needed to jog Joseph’s and Mary’s memory.  Jesus was His Son, His eternal Son. God didn’t do it to be mean but to prepare them. To remind them. Jesus had a job to do. He wasn’t going to be a carpenter for the rest of his life. He had a job to do, and no one else could do it.

So, no, I don’t think Jesus was being snotty that day. He was preparing the ones he loved for what was to come.  And when Jesus did begin his ministry I think Mary, his mom, the one who loved him with all her heart, missed him most. And maybe, of all the other people who had been around him throughout his childhood, Mary understood him best. But after the incident at the temple, I don’t think she ever forgot just who Jesus really was.  

Fast forward eighteen years or so to another place where a celebration was in full swing. A wedding. Jesus was there. So were his disciples. So was Mary. Here’s the run-down in the account of Luke.

¹ On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, ² and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. ³ When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have no more wine.”

⁴ “Woman,^[a] why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

Again the verse above seems rather rude or harsh. Why would Jesus speak to his mother like that? But, Mary didn’t seem offended in the least. Because after he says the above, his mother says to the servants:

⁵ “Do whatever he tells you.”

Seems to me there’s more than meets the eye in this exchange. Maybe Jesus says this to her with a smile on his face, or a wink. If he had intended to be rude or harsh, Mary wouldn’t have confidently told the servants to “Do whatever he tells you.”

Yup, wish I could have known Jesus back when he walked on this earth. But, regardless, I’m sure glad to have him as a friend now. He seems like the kind of guy who’d always have my back. And just so I don’t forget, so you don’t forget, I’ll close with the first verse of a hymn that intrigues me even to this day.

What a friend we have in Jesus,

all our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear,

all because we do not carry

everything to God in prayer.