Hope was gone for the followers of Jesus,
They’d forgotten the things He had said.
Nothing left now but deep grief and questions,
No one thought He would rise from the dead.
They had helplessly watched their beloved
as He hung on the cross in such pain.
Though they wanted to, no one could help Him
as the crowd laughed and mocked him to shame.

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming…!

Satan tried at Christ’s birth, through King Herod,
to destroy Him by royal decree.
He had worked every scheme he could think of,
now at last he would claim victory.
All the demons of hell were rejoicing,
they just knew that they’d finally won,
for they now had accomplished their mission,
they’d succeeded in killing God’s Son.

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming…

Early Sunday, the great God of Heaven
looked down at the sealed garden tomb
where His Only Begotten lay buried,
bound by death’s chains in darkness and gloom.
But–don’t despair, something’s going to happen,
Don’t give up, it’s approaching the hour
when the Father will reach down from glory
and reveal His omnipotent power!

There’s a flash, and an angel from heaven
blinds the men who stand guard at the door.
He rolls back that great tombstone in triumph,
for death’s chains hold the Savior no more!

Where oh grave, where oh grave is your victory?
Where oh death, where oh death is your sting?
He, the captive had now become Captor,
Jesus Christ, Lord of Lords, King of Kings!

It’s Sunday, our Savior is risen!
It’s the Lord’s Day, from death He’s been freed!
It’s Sunday, Hallelujah, He’s risen,
He is risen, is risen indeed!!
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, He’s risen.
He is risen, is risen, indeed!
Amen and Amen!

And so, we celebrate the resurrection of our Living Lord, remembering that,
THE CROSS IS BARE! THE TOMB IS EMPTY, and THE THRONE IS OCCUPIED!!

The quiet beauty of a forest, the flowers awakened by the sun,
The majesty of snow-capped mountains, the myriad colors of the dawn.
The twilight spell when day is ending, the voice of nature joins in song,
Do you know where it all began? To whom does all of this belong?
THIS IS MY FATHERS WORLD!

But, midst the good of God’s creation we see the evil caused by sin,
The threat of war and man’s rebellion, will peace and justice ever win?
We hear the wail of little children who starve and very soon will die,
Held in the loving arms of one whose eyes have no more tears to cry.
IS THIS MY FATHER’S WORLD?

At times we may just feel like quitting, the work gets harder every day,
For greed and hatred keep prevailing as man continues on his way.
Take hope, the story is not ended, the final chapter’s still to come,
Lift up your eyes, pull back the veil, God still is seated on His throne.
THIS IS MY FATHER’S WORLD!!

ROMANS 8:22-23–’We know that all of creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

In the meantime, as we wait, we must never lose sight of the fact that: THE CROSS IS BARE, THE TOMB IS EMPTY and THE THRONE IS OCCUPIED!! Hallelujah!

Patricia and I have been using an out-of-print devotional by A. W. Tozer in our “together” time each morning. I want to pass on the one for today as an encouragement to those who are walking through a testing time.

Tozer: “It cannot be denied that the way of the cross is unpopular and that it may bring a measure of reproach upon those who take it. Learned historians talk of persecutions and religious wars, while, in the midst of all the gloom there were always those few who saw the Eternal City in full view and managed to almost walk on earth as if they had already gone to heaven. These were the joyous ones who got little recognition from the world of institutionalized religion, and might have gone altogether unnoticed except for their singing.

“UNSUNG BUT SINGING: This is the short and simple story of many today whose names are not known beyond the small circle of their own company. Their gifts are not many nor great, but their song is sweet and clear!

“John Milton lost his sight and mourned that loss in his third book of his Paradise Lost. But in spite of his affliction he refused to be desolate. If he could not see, he could still think and he could still pray. And like the nightingale he could sing in the darkness,
‘…as the wakeful bird sings in the dark, and in the shadowy corner hides, She tunes her nightly note.’
“We are never sure where a true Christian may be found–and a busy world may actually not even know he is there–except that they hear him singing!!”

Now, as we head toward the close of another year, we want to wish you a God blessed and God directed New Year. May we all enter 2011 remembering that:

Our faithful God has promised He will lead
and guide us daily by His mighty hand.
He knows exactly what His children need,
and works according to His perfect plan.
There have been mountains we’ve been asked to climb,
some rivers have been wide, some skies been grey.
The valleys have been deep and dark at times,
but without fail our God has led the way.

And He will…

He is here, He is here, the Messiah,
It’s the fullness of time, He has come,
Heaven’s treasure, the brightest of jewels,
He is with us, the Savior, God’s Son.

But so many just pulled down the shutters,
They preferred not to know it was day.
They rebelled against God’s intervention
And they chose to keep going their way.
But all those who were honest and open,
Who were tired of a cloud-covered sun,
Were invaded by God’s light from heaven,
And they knew that Messiah had come.

Hallelujah, all glory to Jesus,
Hallelujah, all praise to His name,
Heaven’s light invaded sin’s darkness
The night the Savior came!!

A blessed and Christ-filled Christmas to all.

It is not death to die
To leave this weary road,
And midst the brotherhood on high
To be at home with God.

It is not death to close
The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake in glorious repose
To spend eternal years.

It is not death to bear
The wrench that sets us free
From dungeon chain, to breathe the air
Of boundless liberty.

It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust,
And rise in strong exulting wing
To live among the just.

Jesus, Thou Prince of Life!
Thy chosen cannot die;
Like Thee, they conquer in the strife,
To reign with Thee on high.

H.A.C. Malan.
Trans. by G.W. Bethune.

“O death, where is your sting?
O grave, where is your victory?!!