The First Easter
The male disciples deserted him. The women distantly watched him. The religious leaders gloated over him. And the Roman soldiers guarded him—even in death.
This was the stage for the first Easter Sunday.
It began as one of darkness and separation. Mourning and sorrow. Disillusionment and disbelief. Death lingered.
It was a Sunday without fanfare or trumpets, without brightly attired dresses or wrappings, without large crowds or attractions.
It was simple. It was subtle. It was serious. It was a Sunday where Jesus’s followers were dispersed and scattered.
Pause thinking of the first Easter for just a moment and return your mind to yesterday’s Easter. The vast majority of the world was sequestered in their homes for fear of a novel virus.
Major city streets were deserted. Family members were divided and distant. Soldiers guarded hospitals with the dying and the deceased.
There was much darkness and separation. Mourning and sorrow. Disillusionment and disbelief. The fear of death lingers.
Yesterday was a Sunday without fanfare or trumpets (at least not live), without brightly attired dresses or bonnets, without large crowds or attractions.
The services were simple, subtle, and some were serious. It was a Sunday where Jesus’s followers were dispersed and scattered.
But joy still reigned. Churches were empty a day ago, but so was the tomb two thousand years ago.
“And if Christ had not been raised, then all our preaching is useless, and your faith is useless… But in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead…” (1 Cor. 15:14, 20)
Truths amidst disrupted traditions endure:
Jesus conquered death.
He arose from the grave.
He is alive.
We are not without hope. We may be separated from one another, but he is not separated from us. He has not deserted us. He does not distantly watch us. He does not gloat over us. On the contrary, he guards us—even in death. (Rom. 8:38–39)
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