Why Easter is the Most Important Christian Holiday
Rabbits don’t lay eggs, they bear live young. Someone told me the story of a pagan holiday combined with Christianity. Something about a fertility celebration? It wasn’t Christian, but it got mixed in. However, I found family movies of my first Easter. My brother and I had Easter baskets, chocolate eggs, and fancy outfits. Watching my parents follow me around while I wore my pretty dress almost makes tears come to my eyes. (They are both in heaven.) In later years, I do remember picking out my fancy clothes and dying eggs for Easter egg hunts. We always went to church to sing and praise God for the resurrection. However, despite the fact what we celebrated every year, I didn’t”t realize how important Easter was until I got older. It may have been my fault for not listening, but I didn’t get it. Now I do.
My guest is my husband, Ray Simmons. He’s a Bible teacher and elder at Grace Community Church. We chose a different tradition raising our children, and he will explain why Easter is so important.
Ray Simmons leading Passover
1:00 Why is Easter so important?
2:10 What evidence do we have that Christ rose?
[tweetthis]He is risen. He is risen indeed![/tweetthis]
[tweetthis]Because Jesus lives, we have eternal life[/tweetthis]
Learn more about doing a Messianic Passover here or here.
The Real Easter Story is about hope, and with the world in upheaval, we need lots of hope.
Easter stands alone as the most important holiday we celebrate.
Jesus predicted his death and resurrection, and according to his own words, it proved the validity of his claims to be the son of God, who came to die for our sins. Note:
Matthew 12:40 For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
John 2:19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”
If Christ has not been risen “…our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised.” I Corinthians 15
Jesus”…was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord,
I remember during the time of the Reformation, they worshipped bits of the cross and even the nails. In fact, at one point Martin Luther joked about the number of nails that must have been used because at that time people claimed to have far too many bits of nails and fragments of the cross. While I’m not ready to say the Shroud of Turin is the burial garment of Christ, there are interesting bits of evidence that drop us back into the first century when we study the microscopic evidence.
The shroud is a long narrow piece of cloth. At that time, they folded a long piece of cloth over a body and tied at the feet, waist and head prior to burial. On this piece of cloth is a faint image of a crucified man. However, if you take a photograph, you have an incredible image of a man with details that wow the scholars and PhDs.
Crucifixion stopped in about 326 A.D. The shroud was dated with carbon 14 to be about the 1500s, but at that time, they would not know the details that appear to ring true regarding this burial cloth.
These details surrounding the shroud are worth studying because they give a picture of the historical events of the crucifixion and help us understand the suffering Christ endured.
Mom, I’ve been thinking of you. Today as I cleaned up your house, I picked up a bag of things to go through, and I found a graying box with a rubber band around it. When I opened it, there sat a little green book, “The Story of Our Baby.” It made me smile.
Tears began to flow as I flipped through and let myself remember. You kept cards from my first birthday, the tag I wore in the hospital, and a cutting of my hair. You carefully listed my height and weight each time I went to the doctor.
The first tooth I lost was carefully taped on one page, and you recounted the story. I recall that day. I’d been running too fast at a friend’s house, and I slammed into my playmate. My mouth hit her forehead. Blood went everywhere. I didn’t know teeth fell out, so I was terrified. That was one occasion when a kiss didn’t make it stop hurting. But you stayed with me, and kept cold rags on my mouth until it felt better.
On a page labeled “Mother’s Notes” you wrote, “A mother has really missed something in life if she doesn’t have a little girl. She is as stubborn as an ox, but as sweet as a little lamb. Feb. 1958.”
Yes, that sounds like you. I know it’s true. There was a tug-of-war between us sometimes. How many times I heard you say, “If I ever get you kids grown, I won’t have sense enough to come in out of the rain.” I never understood what that meant, but then I had my own kids. Parenting is hard. Now I wish I hadn’t been quite so stubborn, Mom.
You listed my fancy outfits for special occasions, my first Christmas, my first birthday. How many hours did you labor over my pretty dresses? I can still see you with a thimble on your middle finger, and a needle in the other hand stitching lace around hemlines, collars, or sleeves. You tried to see how much lace you could get on one dress, and I loved it. It must have been tedious work, but you never seemed to mind.
My brother and I visited your grave this week after taking care of Dad’s business. I expected to see a nice carpet of grass, but it hasn’t been long enough for grass to grow. The bare dirt felt like a scab on a fresh injury. Yes, we buried you and Dad together, just as you wanted. And one day you and dad are going to pop out of that grave with smiles on your faces.
Until then, Mom, you’ll be gazing at the glory of Jesus. It’s Mother’s Day, and I want you to know I didn’t forget. I love you.
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