Easter is not over....He is still risen!

Easter weekend for us, most years, is so full of cooking and preparing tables and getting everything all set for a houseful of guests, that the meaning of the day is a bit diluted.
I hope that as the years pass and I mature, I can learn better and better how to create an atmosphere of lavish hospitality which is bestowed without pride or stress.
I am not there yet......but I do understand that it's the destination.

This Easter weekend, my family did not host anyone, as we were on the receiving end of loving hospitality both Friday and Sunday.
On Good Friday, our family visited the delightful Robertson family for a delicious and simple meal  and good solid encouraging fellowship.  
The topic there, and everywhere reformed Christians gather lately, seems to be justification by faith alone.....no pride in our works.....and how just at the point when I think I understand this concept, I find another place where I am hoping God will notice my stellar service and so I must, once again, repent and pray for understanding that it is all grace, and no man can boast.
After our visit, we all drove together  into Toronto to Westminster Chapel's joint worship service....where 300 people were expected, but 600 arrived.  Amazing!!!!   What a glorious service that was.

Saturday, as I putzed around cooking and ironing and such, I listened to a few good Palm Sunday sermons on MP3, and was really blessed by that.

And on Sunday, we got a great hour of excellent teaching from Paul Martin about the ubiquitous idols in our life, and the necessity of turning from them and following Christ alone.   Then we enjoyed a fabulous feast and spent the afternoon with Jay and Becky and Brennah  (Leah slept  the whole time....), and enjoyed restful fellowship with them.

So I am appreciating all the love and care I received over the weekend, and the good conversations I enjoyed, and the great singing and teaching.  And I mostly am thankful for the opportunity to take more time that I usually do at Easter to reflect on the work of Christ for me.  I think that some times I forget how horrible and ugly and humiliating the "trial" and death of Christ must have been.  I forget how public his shame and suffering were.  But he stood before crowds who hated him, mocked him, cried out for his brutal murder.  Dirty and bleeding and in agonizing pain.    He did that for me, for us.
What a horrible death.

And then he rose.  Perfect and eternal, Jesus defeated death for us.  He died to do that for us.
And now he lives forever.
With that in mind, how can I ever be afraid to speak about him.