Growing up, I never understood the fuss about Easter. Christmas was the holiday when I unwrapped gifts, ate my favourite dishes till I couldn’t breathe and wore the fanciest dresses. But Easter always seemed calm, if not gloomy. My parents would make us fast and pray, and family devotions always seemed to drag for hours on end.
As I walked with Abba, I began to realise that Christmas exists because of Easter. We celebrate the birth of Jesus because He was born to die for us and bring us back to reconciliation with God. On the hill of Golgotha, I was on the other side of the cross, wrapped in the mercy of God and crowned with grace. Jesus looked at me and found me precious and worth dying for. And He did.
His flesh was torn to shreds. His face was battered beyond recognition. His body was bruised beyond repair. Yet despite the pain and agony that he endured, he looked up to heaven and pleaded for my sins.
And on the third day, He rose, claiming victory over sin and death so that I may come freely to the throne of God and commune with my Father. All of heaven and earth rejoiced and gave a standing ovation as He humbly sat at the right hand of God.
Jesus gave the greatest gift to me; His life. He clothed me in the fanciest dress; His amazing grace, so that I may partake of the greatest feast; His undying love for me.