Thank you, Jesus

We watched the days leading up to the resurrection of Jesus acted out this year. We started in the high school with the Last Supper, then went to a city park for the Garden of Gethsemane. The next night we went to the steps of the courthouse for the trial of Jesus; then followed him carrying his cross up the hill toward the crucifixion, which was in a parking lot by the library. We watched them carry his body and lay it in a tomb in a nearby church parking lot, and on Sunday morning we watched the resurrection and ascension.

It really did make the events come alive, walking from place to place, with days in between scenes.

I missed the trial because a boy needed a rest stop. I didn't mind. I didn't want to see him beaten. We showed up at the crucifixion and found a spot near the back. It wasn't a very good view, and again I was glad.

I could not have endured what Jesus did for me. We were talking in the van with our boys later, and I mentioned that I never could have done that, and Zac says, "You could have done the Last Supper." Yes, I suppose I could have done that part.

While we were at the crucifixion, a heard a man nearby calling the police on his cellphone. He was reporting the scene. That's the reaction I would expect from the crowd. Why was the angry mob calling out "Crucify Him!" Why weren't they calling out for someone to stop this madness?
I didn't want to watch. How could this have happened?

"It is finished," He cried.
And my sin was nailed to the cross.
He was bruised for my iniquity.
By His strips I was healed.

They took him down, and my son says, "He's fine Mom. He got down."

Yes, isn't that the truth! He is fine! He got down! He is not on that cross anymore. He is not in that tomb anymore! Sunday morning, the earth shook, the stone rolled away and He is fine -- more than fine.