Easter

I have this theory about Easter and Christmas.

Christmas seems to be a much more popular holiday because it's much easier to celebrate. We can overlook all those details about Jesus being born in a stable with smelly animals. You can't depict the smell of manure very well in those cute cartoonish cherub Christmas greeting cards. The birth of a baby is usually a cause for celebration too.

But Easter is has a lot of unpleasantries such as blood and a Roman beating and crucifixion and shame and denial by close friends. And sin. And the wrath of God to judge that sin.

Oh the good parts of Easter are indescribable. What kind of God would love conniving, disrespectful, belligerent, ungrateful humans enough to stoop down to become one of them and then die as a criminal in the place of their deserved punishment? And most incredibly that Easter morning is the celebration of the devil's defeat and sin's defeat by God's Son.

But this requires us to own up to our wretchedness. Our tendency toward putting our grubby little selves at the controls and trying to arrange things so we look good. No, this is why Easter is far less popular and much more about plastic grass and white rabbits suits with matted fur and candy.

I would rather not think about God's wrath. Or his perfection. Or the punishment for my wretchedness.

But I must.

For then I can see just bit more clearly how God defines love. Repentance. Mercy. Grace. Forgiveness. Heaven. Hell.

And when I start defining these from my human perspective, they end up all a mess. Throw out repentance. That makes people feel bad about themselves. From a human perspective, Hell is incomprehensible.

But God has already defined sin and repentance and mercy and grace and forgiveness and heaven and hell. Thankfully. That relieves us as humans of a lot of wasted time thinking of new and more palatable ways to define them. Or it should.

Stuart Townend penned it this way:

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom