After fingers of the rain reach down
Pulling frost out from the ground
And the cold relentless wind grows still
And I hear the gentle sound
Of a robin singing at my door
And distant thunder in the sky
Then I look out of my window
And watch children splashing by
Then I wonder at the changing world
As snowdrifts melt in Spring
And my sleeping faith sits up in bed
To hear the church bells ring
To Hear the Church Bells Ring
By Peter Caligiuri
Copyright © 2024
All rights reserved
Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). John 20:15-16 ESV
When Charles Wesley penned these words back in 1739, he put into song, the joy that Mary Magdalene must have felt on that first resurrection morning. Remember that she had come to anoint the body of Jesus, not meet with Him. Her main concern had revolved around the question of who would roll back the stone, so she could get in to pay her last respects. Little did she realize that Jesus had chosen her to be the very first person to see Him after He had risen from the dead. Sometimes our biggest worries must seem awfully small to Jesus, and yet He takes time to come where we are, call us by name and is willing to show Himself to us as well. Will we only dare to believe?
He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Matthew 28:6 ESV
(I have probably posted this in the past, but since it is one of my favorite personal stories that link with Easter, I am republishing for some of you to reread and for my newer followers to discover for the first time. )
As I was driving home from work one day, I saw a turtle crawling across the road. “What a great thing to show our boys!” I thought. So, I pulled over, scooped Him up and gently placed him on the passenger seat and drove home. As I walked in the door that afternoon, cradling the little turtle in my hands, our two young sons rushed over to see what I was holding. They were out of their minds with excitement as we made up a box for him, complete with water and grass. But our turtle wasn’t happy. He wouldn’t eat or drink anything and as the days passed we realized that Mr. Turtle needed to be set free. The next day we drove to the outskirts of town, where I had found him. I found a good spot and pulled over. Then I gently took the turtle out of his box and put him on the ground. At first he remained motionless, and I began to wonder if he had died. But as we walked away, he slowly eased one foot, out of his shell and then another. Then, he poked out his head, took one look back and raced away as fast as his stubby legs could carry him! Mr. Turtle’s surprising revival reminded me of Jesus. His friends wept and walked away without hope on Good Friday. But that was not the end of His story. Very early, on Easter Sunday morning, Jesus sat up, placed first one foot and then the other on the ground, and then walked out of that grave to give us life from the dead with Him!
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