The Middle of the Story

           
Friday night our pastor preached on the crucifixion as I am sure many pastor did.  It was a sad but wonderful message for it set the stage for the middle of the greatest story ever told. First came the birth, but actually the beginning of the story starts in Genesis 1:1.  Over and over God tells the story, over and over through different men and women who played important roles in this story.  Through history as it unfolds, tower of babel, a flood all over the world,  one King after another, countless idols and some of the most horrific act done to mankind.  It's all there in the beginning.  Now we are at  the middle part of the story, first came His birth, born of a virgin, preaching at 12 in the temple, worked for His father, heading for the cross.  Called 12 men to train to train others after He was gone. The betrayal, the denial, the prayer in the garden to the Father.  Getting closer to the middle of the story, His beating, His carrying of His own cross, nails pounding in His flesh.  The weight of His body as it hung on the cross, watching His mother, His disciples, the guards, the crowd, the other two on the cross, all part of the story.  Then His final last words, the day turning into night as He breathe His last, those watching trembling from fear.

To so many there that day, actually almost everyone thought it was the end of the story.

I hate it when a story ends bad. I watched a show the other night about a Marine home from Iraq, he went awol and hid out in the wood.  He met some others living a remote lifestyle and thought he had found a new life.  I thought this is going to end well...wrong...he turned out to be a murder running from the murder of his wife.  He killed some of the people he was living with then himself.  I was stunned at the ending, why would they make a movie with such a bad ending.

But, that's how stories go sometimes.  There He is, dead on the cross, all those things He said, forgotten, He was dead.  His mother wanted her Son down from the cross so He could be buried.  Nobody planned on Him dying so funeral arrangements had been made, there was no tomb for Him until a rich man gave a tomb to the family.

Everyone was sad, distraught, disappointed, grieving , this is how this ends.  Wait, didn't He say something about rising again, but He is dead, cold, blue, dead laying in a tomb. It's over.  

Up from the grave He arose,
with a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
he arose a victor from the dark domain,
and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!

The song, Up From The Grave He Arose, is the end of the middle of the story.   We are living in the end of the middle of the story. He has died, rose again, sitting at the right hand of His Father.  He will never have to be born of a virgin again, never be crucified again, never die again, never have to rise again.  Without this part, the cross, the last part of the story cannot happen.  He had to endure the cross for us so He could come again to take us to our heavenly home.  Praise God for the story of Jesus, who like His Father really had no beginning, He always was but suffered a middle so we could have an eternity ending.  

Happy Easter