Easter isn’t my favorite.
I’m not a fan of the chocolate bunnies, the stuffed Easter baskets, and the colored eggs.
More so, I tend to shy away from the Easter story. I don’t like to read about my Savior’s death, even when I know the resurrection is just around the corner. It makes me cringe to think about it all and I can’t handle the gore.
Even still, I got out my bible this morning and forced myself to read it.
I was at the point where Pilate’s wife says she had a dream about the innocent man and then Pilate washes his hands of it all, too (Matt 27:19,24). They knew he was innocent. They knew he shouldn’t have to die.
Still the crowd yells in reply, “Let his blood be on us and on our children” (Matt 27:25).
I had to stop there.
I know he was innocent. I know he shouldn’t have had to die. This is what makes me cringe at the story, but the fact still remains that I NEED the story.
They were asking for his blood.
I am asking for his blood.
By his wounds I am healed and by his blood I am redeemed. In his blood is forgiveness and oh how thankful I am for that forgiveness. It saves my soul, soothes my heart, and gives me hope for the future.
Thank you, Jesus, for giving your life in payment for my ugly sin. You didn’t have to, but you did and the world has never been the same.
The best part of the story comes on Sunday, but we live in that celebration everyday. We painted eggs with the kids and then went through the resurrection eggs. Junior yelled out in joy when we came to the last egg and it was empty. He knew the answer, “Because Jesus is ALIVE!”