Where did you learn this?

Happy Easter have a fabulous weekend with family and friends! Hugs

 

 

 

Where did you learn this?

I was standing before the window of an art store where a picture of the Crucifixion of our Lord was on exhibition.  As I gazed, I was aware of the approach of another, and turning, beheld a little lad gazing also intently at the picture.  Noticing that this mite of humanity was a street boy, I thought I would speak to him; so I asked, pointing at the picture, “Do you know who He is?”

“Yes,” came a quick response; “That’s our Savior,” with a mingled look of pity and surprise that I should not know what the picture represented.

With an obvious desire to enlighten me further, he continued, after a pause; “Them’s Roman soldiers, the Roman soldiers, and,” with a long drawn sigh, “that woman crying there is His mother.”

He waited, obviously for me to question him further, then thrust his hand in his pockets, and with a reverent and subdued voice and tear-stained face added, “They killed Him, Mister.  Yes, sir, they killed Him.”

I looked at the little dirty, rugged fellow and asked, “where did you learn this?’

At the Mission Sunday school,” was the reply.

Full of thoughts regarding the benefits of the Mission Sunday schools, I turned and resumed my walk, leaving the little lad still looking at the picture, I had not walked a block when I heard his childish voice calling, “Mister! Say, Mister! ” I turned.  He was running toward me but paused;   then up went his little hand, and with a triumphant sound in his voice and now radiant face, he said, “ I want to tell you:He Arose Again, He Is Alive!”   By  R.A. Torrey

This wonderful story reminds me the Grave is empty, and Jesus lives and is alive today. I know that my hope, salvation and constant care comes from Him. He loves me, forgives me and loves me.

He is my security, He is Enough!

Happy Easter, He Has Risen!

Lovingly, Karan

Thank you for sharing your time with me today dear friend. What brings delight and Joy to your life?

Do you have a favorite Easter story?

I would love to hear your thoughts as we share our journey.

 

 

 

To Much Candy ~ The Grave Is Empty

 

To Much Candy

Marty, was in church on Easter Sunday with his mother, and after eating a lot of candy he started feeling sick.

‘Mummy,’ he inquired, ‘can we leave now?‘  ‘No,’ his mother replied, ‘the service isn’t over yet.’

‘Well, I think I’m about to throw up.’ Marty announced. 

‘Then go out of the front door and around to the back of the church and throw up behind a bush.’ said his mother.

After about sixty seconds, Marty returned to his pew, alongside his mother.

‘Did you throw up?’ Marty’s Mum asked quietly.

 ‘Yes,’ Marty answered, embarrassed. ‘How could you have gone all the way to the back of the church and returned so quickly?’ she demanded.

‘I didn’t have to go out of the church, Mummy. They have a box next to the front door that says, “For the Sick”.’ Author Unknown

 

 

 

 

Reflections:  The Grave Is Empty

Easter brought new life, the Grave is empty, and Jesus lives. I know that my hope and constant care come from Him. He loves me, forgave me and helps me. Darkness is gone, and life has a new meaning.

What a privilege to celebrate the Easter season, because of Jesus’ victory over sin and death we are now free.

Matthew 28:5-6

But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified He is not here; for He is risen, as He said

 The cross of Christ reveals man’s sin at its worst and God’s love at its best!

The Grave Is Empty, He Has Risen!

Happy Easter Dear Friends, Wishing you much love and blessings.

Thank you for stopping by and sharing your time with me.

Hugs!

Lovingly, Karan

The Easter Eggs

 

Happy Easter Everyone!

 

  The Easter Eggs: 

 

Philip was born with Downs Syndrome. He was a pleasant child . . .happy it seemed . . . but increasingly aware of the difference between himself and other children. Philip went to Sunday school faithfully every week. He was in the third grade class with nine other eight-year olds. 

You know eight-year olds. And Philip, with his differences, was not readily accepted. But his teacher was sensitive to Philip and he helped this group of eight-year olds to love each other as best they could, under the circumstances. They learned, they laughed, and they played together. And they really cared about one another, even though eight-year olds don’t say they care about one another out loud. 

But don’t forget. There was an exception to all this. Philip was not really a part of the group. Philip did not choose, nor did he want to be different. He just was. And that was the way things were. 

His teacher had a marvelous idea for his class the Sunday after Easter. You know those things that pantyhose come in . . . the containers that look like great big eggs? The teacher collected ten of them. The children loved it when he brought them into the room and gave one to each child. 

It was a beautiful spring day, and the assignment was for each child to go outside, find the symbol for new life, put it into the egg, and bring it back to the classroom They would then open and share their new life symbols and surprises, one by one. 

It was glorious. It was confusing. It was wild. They ran all around the church grounds, gathering their symbols, and returned to the classroom. 

They put all the eggs on a table, and then the teacher began to open them. All the children gathered around the table. He opened one and there was a flower, and they ooh-ed and aah-ed. He opened another and there was a little butterfly.

“Beautiful!” the girls all said, since it is hard for eight-year old boys to say ‘beautiful.’ He opened another and there was a rock. And as third-graders will, some laughed, and some said, “That’s crazy! How’s a rock supposed to be like new life?” But the smart little boy who’d put it in there spoke up: “That’s mine. And I knew all of you would get flowers and buds and leaves and butterflies and stuff like that. So I got a rock because I wanted to be different. And for me, that’s new life.” They all laughed. 

The teacher said something about the wisdom of eight-year olds and opened the next one. There was nothing inside. The children, as eight-year olds will, said, “That’s not fair. That’s stupid! Somebody didn’t do it right.” 

Then the teacher felt a tug on his shirt, and he looked down. “It’s mine, Philip said. It’s mine.” 

And the children said, “You don’t ever do things right, Philip. There’s nothing there!” 

“I did so do it right!” Philip said. “I did do it right. The tomb is empty!” 

There was silence, a very full silence. And for you people who don’t believe in miracles, I want to tell you that one happened that day. From that time on, it was different. Philip suddenly became a part of that group of eight-year old children. They took him in. He was set free from the tomb of his differences. 

Philip died last summer. His family had known since the time he was born that he wouldn’t live out a full life span. Many other things were wrong with his little body. And so, late last July, with an infection that most normal children could have quickly shrugged off, Philip died. 

At his memorial service, nine eight-year old children marched up to the altar, not with flowers to cover over the stark reality of death . . . but nine eight-year olds, along with their Sunday School teacher, marched right up to that altar, and laid on it an empty egg . . . an empty, old, discarded pantyhose egg.  Author unknown

And the tomb is empty!

I wanted to share with you one my favorite Easter story, I have loved this one since the first time I heard it.

It is a constant reminder that the Grave is empty, and Jesus lives and He is alive. I know that my hope, salvation and constant care comes from Him. He loves me, forgive me and helps me.  He is my security, He is Enough!

Happy Easter, He Has Risen!

Lovingly, Karan

Thank you for sharing your time with me today dear friend. What brings delight and Joy to your life? Do you have a favorite Easter story?

I would love to hear your thoughts as we share our journey.

Hugs