“Everything’s gray since she died,” Mother explained quietly. Death’s stiff brushstrokes slapped thick, opaque gray on her inner canvas already stretched thin from her own fight with cancer. Granddaughter Clara, now motherless and not yet two, brings splashes of life-color, but fleeting. More often, Mother’s gray sky days cloud full and eyes pour rain sheets. Her daughter is gone. Gone. Like a balloon adrift, rising to the heavens, watched until eyes ache to spot and then, disappearing from view. Gone.
He rose from the dead never to die again. Think about that! He lives! We can’t see Him now with our temporal eyes, but He lives! He died and was placed in a tomb to rot. But He didn’t rot. HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD! Hundreds of people saw Him! People touched His risen, nail-pierced body. He conquered the grave because of His willingness to suffer the cross. And that’s not the only good news! He causes ALL who place their trust in Him to conquer the grave! All who trust Him for deliverance from the death-curse will be resurrected one day with new bodies that will never die and never feel pain! Oh, what a hope! The grave is not the end! Oh no! It’s the beginning of something far greater than anything imaginable here on earth for those who trust that Jesus, and Jesus alone, saves.