THE PASTOR’S POINTS
sermon ministry of
CEDAR LODGE BAPTIST CHURCH
Thomasville, NC
A fellowship of faith, family and friendships.
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Dear Friends,
The following sermon was prepared for Easter Sunrise service at our church. I never got to deliver that sermon because the Lord impressed me that the poem written for the occasion had all the sermon we needed. The poem follows the never-preached sermon
Blessings, R.
Easter Sunday at Sunrise
April 20, 2003
1But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared. 2And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. 4While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men suddenly stood near them in dazzling clothing; 5and as the women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, "Why do you seek the living One among the dead? 6"He is not here, but He has risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee, 7saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again." 8And they remembered His words, 9and returned from the tomb and reported all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. Luke 24.1-9 (NASB)
Part of our Easter season observance is Jesus’ passion. We go to Gethsemane, and sense the greatest crisis of the ages as Jesus bows in prayer to His heavenly Father. Intense agony fills his prayer, and the physical drain and stress is such that great drops of blood trickle out of the pores of Jesus’ body.
We watch the traitor kiss our Lord, betraying the one hope Judas has for his own redemption. We follow with Peter as Jesus is led to Pilate, then Caiaphas and back again. We shake our heads in disbelief at the sham of a trial, the injustice of scourging; who would not wince as soldiers strike Jesus’ face, spit on him, impel on that sacred head a crown of 8" thorns, wrap his naked body in a regal robe, spin him around and then bow before him in mock worship?
The ignorance of all the world is nakedly displayed as the crowd screams, "Crucify, crucify!" The crowd follows as the soldiers place the log of a crossbeam upon the back of Jesus, and they proceed through the streets of Jerusalem. Jesus stumbles under the weight, and Simon is compelled to carry the cross, and the women weep as He passes by.
A third of a mile, just 650 yards to Golgotha, a skull-shaped hill, and the walk towards Jesus’ final moments is almost complete. The beam is laid down on the ground, forming a cross with another, longer beam. Jesus is stretched-out, and the large spikes are driven through flesh, muscle and tendon, piercing blood vessels, and the heart of Jesus’ Father in heaven.
The torture is nearly complete as it takes several Roman soldiers to pick up the heavy cross bearing the bruised and bleeding, barely breathing, nearly unrecognizable Jesus, Son of God, Lamb who was slain from before the foundation of the world, and slide it into a prepared hole. The soldiers take little care for a dying Jew. They hoist up the cross as if it is a garbage can being picked up on a Thursday afternoon in the inner city, cursing its weight, eager to let it fly into the hole. As the bottom of the cross hits the bottom of the hole, the weight of Jesus’ body is thrust downward against the immovable station of nails, and his flesh tears again, sending waves of excruciating pain through a body well beyond its physical limits.
The pain momentarily subsides as adrenaline courses through Jesus’ nerves, muscle and body tissue. He becomes aware of the fact that there is no air in His lungs.
Agonizingly He lifts himself up, pushing with nail-pierced feet, and pulling with hands that have gaping holes from the nails pinning him to this cursed tree. He struggles for a few breaths, and sags back down into position. He uses what little air is left to tell John to take care of Mary.
The events of the cross leave little doubt as to the outcome. Jesus will be with His Father soon. Mocking, cursing rise from the crowd; Jesus utters the unbelievable, "Father, forgive them, they don’t understand at all." He is thirsty; they want to salt his tongue with vinegar. He cries out, they taunt, "If you’re the son of God come down from there." One thief mocks and ridicules, the other pleads; Jesus extends mercy and eternity in joy as the blood fills his lungs.
Jesus cries out, "Father, MY GOD, have YOU forsaken me too? Physically exhausted and emotionally alone, there is one last desperate sound, "IT IS FINISHED!" Teletestai, paid in full.
After a moment of deadly still, the earth begins to tremble, the sky darkens and the scene is transformed. A soldier stands with his mouth agape like a cartoon character who was sitting in a tree sawing off the very branch upon which he is supported. He wears the unmistakable look of one who has just done something that will begin his own downfall. He stammers out what many others are feeling in the pit of their stomachs, "Surely this was the Son of God!"
Jesus is dead…stone, cold dead. He is a corpse. The soldiers have seen enough crucifixions; they don’t have to break this one’s legs to see if he’s faking. They are soldiers; killing is their business. Joseph of Arimithea begs for the body. It is laid in a new tomb cut in the rock. For rich man or poor, it is still a tomb - spiders, dark, airless, just a one-way door.
That was Friday! Sunday happened! In the early hours the women come to enter the tomb and properly embalm the corpse. As they walk along they wonder who is going to move the stone away from the entry so they can do what they’ve come for. Their question is answered in a way they never entertained. The stone is already gone; is it grave robbers?
As they debate about the location of the corpse, two men suddenly are standing before them. Terrified, the women assume these have something to do with stealing their Master’s body.
Speech comes, but the women are staring at their feet. "Why do you seek the living here, a place for corpses?" Don’t you remember what Jesus told you back in Galilee? He isn’t here, He is risen!"
Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places
The women ran back and told the disciples. They did what I would probably have done - they went back to the tomb to see for themselves. Had I been Jesus, I think I’d have grabbed Peter by the scruff of the neck and said, "Why, big fisherman? What part of seeking the living among the dead did you not understand?"
We do it all the time. We seek for happiness in a job, new marriage, better house or new situation; nothing but empty tombs. We think when we get the house paid off, the kids married off, and the day job finished off, life will be easier; empty tombs!
It is good to remember the cross, its important. However, sometimes I think we spend too much time there. The cross was where our pardon was purchased. In Monopoly terms, it is our "Get Out of Jail Free" card. But, if you just stand there once you’ve been set free, it won’t make much difference in the long run. I’ve watched movies of people set free from prison - they take a long pause when they walk out the gate, wondering what in the world they’ll do now. Some don’t make it. They return quickly and often. In the movie Shawshank Redemption, James Whitmore plays an elderly convict who gets released after more than 50 years in prison. He paused much too long at the gate. He couldn’t make it on the outside; even tried to stick up a store to get sent back. In the end he committed suicide because he couldn’t handle the freedom. Judas couldn’t handle the cross either, and he made the same choice.
The cross purchased our freedom, gave us a clean slate. It is the empty tomb on Easter morning where we pick up our marching orders past the prison gate. The angel said, "He is risen".
I don’t wear much jewelry; I’ve never cared much for it. However, there is one piece I’ll wear if I can ever find one; I want to get a pin for my lapel that shows an empty tomb - one where the stone has been rolled away. I want to be reminded by the empty crosses other people wear, and a tomb without a corpse that my Jesus lives! And He has said that because He lives, I can live too. It’s not all about the solemn moments of Holy Thursday, and the long faces of Good Friday; it’s about resurrection and life abundant!
Our faith in Jesus Christ is all about living life to its fullest, joy unspeakable and full of glory.
So, when you come to the cross now, let’s sing "I Serve a RISEN Savior!" And when you bring your flower to put on this cross, you are helping to remind our community - everyone who drives past and sees a big old cross with blossoms all over it, that the cross can only put to death, but the empty tomb means life…and we are not about seeking life among the dead…we serve a Savior who LIVES! Hallelujah!
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FROM A GARDEN TO GOOD NEWS
by Viola Carlton Hardin
THE CAPTURE AND TRIAL
The Bible tells us every day
There is a land far, far away.
A lovely garden in the sun
Where once there came the blessed One.
For on that well-remembered day
And in that garden far away
Our Savior knelt in solitude
To say a prayer and talk to God.
At peace He rose and walked alone,
He knew the crowd would find him soon.
His thoughts were not of hate and strife,
Or someone soon would sell his life.
As He calmly turned to stand and wait
He saw the mob “so filled with hate”.
The soldiers too were drawing near,
And the Judas kiss said “he is here.”
Betrayed by one He called His own,
Judas sold the Master for a paltry sum.
But He would not deny His fate that day,
They bound the Savior and took Him away.
The crowd grew large on the dusty road.
And the chains grew heavy, that His load.
But only His Father would ever know,
How they wounded His Son, down there below.
For in that crowd as He stood alone,
Was often hit with sticks and stones.
But never, once could they hear Him cry,
Yet he heard the yells – “Crucify; Crucify.”
Before the court He now would stand,
And see the rulers of this land.
But he could find no fault, “not one”.
So he washed his hands and sent him on.
The second one He now would see,
Who could so easily set him free.
But he too heard “the crucify,”
So he sentenced our Lord to hang and die.
A crown of thorns placed on his head
Had brought the blood to run bright red.
And a wooden cross, they cut and made
Upon His back and shoulders laid.
He tried to carry this heavy load,
But stumbled and fell on the stony road.
Yet there was one who did show love,
And he carried the cross to the hill above.
And there on the crest, so close to the sky,
Christ followed the cross and knew He would die.
But never a word or angry tone
Did He accuse those guilty ones.
ON THE CROSS
In a far away country, in a land gone wild,
They stoned the Savior, God’s only child.
They sent him through torture,
but could not break His will,
So they crucified Jesus on a bleak, lonely hill.
On a roughly made cross, set deep in the ground
They nailed to the wood His feet and His hands.
And the sun beat down in a merciless glow
On the body of Jesus, on the cross below.
They had taken his robe to throw to the ground,
And the soldiers bartered, as they passed it around.
A touch of water they knew he craved,
But a sponge of vinegar was all they gave.
And when He refused they offered no more
To still the agony and pain He bore.
He closed His eyes and began to pray,
“Father, forgive their deeds this day.”
He saw His mother softly cry
As she sadly watched Him bleed and die.
But He gave her care to another one
To love and protect when He was gone.
With a sword the soldiers pierced His side
And the blood flowed freely, a crimson tide.
A sight the crowd had come to see,
As the blood ran red from Calvary.
They had never thought of His Father’s love,
Or that he saw this scene from up above.
They did not know it was in His hands
To destroy their world at His command.
But o’er the shouting and the din
God heard His Son call out to Him.
He saw each loved one stand and weep,
So in death He closed His eyes in sleep.
For surely God was angry now,
As He saw this cruel sight.
For He took the bright and shining sun
And turned it dark as night.
The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed,
And panic filled the air.
While the frightened ones down there below,
Had seen God’s awesome power.
But – Christ yet hung upon the cross;
The day was nearly gone.
But loved ones waited hour by hour
To claim God’s only Son.
They took the broken body down
And destroyed the crown of thorns.
And on His body placed a shroud
And down the hill was borne.
They laid Him in a lonely tomb
And sealed the entrance tight.
But God sent an angel
To guard Him through the night.
No one saw him enter; no one allowed to stay
But God was watching o’er His Son,
And the stone was rolled away.
THE TOMB
One Sunday morning, early bright,
Before the sun was high.
Loved ones came to see our Lord
To say a last good by.
But all they saw was an empty tomb
And a stone, now rolled away.
Had someone taken the Savior out,
Before the light of day?
An angel sat beside the tomb;
And surely he had known.
How joyful were the words he would say,
Our Savior rose this morn.
But the ones who came that sad, sad day
Could not believe them true,
Until the Savior called their names,
And they cried “My Lord, it is You.”
And what a great reunion there;
As He was greeted one by one.
Until the Father called to Him
To say, “My Son, come home.”
But He is just a breath away;
One thought can take you there.
And you can feel His presence
When you go to Him in prayer.
EASTER MORN
Today is Easter once again;
So let the voices ring
In praise and honor for the one
Who is our Lord and King.
For in that land so far away
From the silence, dark and gloom,
Our Savior rose at early dawn
And came from out the tomb.
Only an angel knew he rose;
To see Him go away.
But even the angel did not know
How special was this day.
The world has called it Easter morn,
A rebirth for the spring.
But we rejoice that Jesus lives
And He is coming back again.
He bled and died up on that cross,
That you and I would live.
And now He asks for love and trust,
That we should surely give.
Ages come and ages go,
But time can never dim
This precious day He gave away,
And, yet belongs to Him.
And that’s how Easter came to us
That day at break of dawn.
When an angel’s voice echoed through time
The Savior rose this morn.
