The ultimate Artist painted a world into existence. Stars with names appeared wherever He looked in the night sky. Water found its boundaries and came no closer until He commanded. Soon birds and animals, fish and trees, grass and flowers all began to color the canvas in a delight to the visual and auditory senses.
However, there was one bit of creation left and this creation would require something more. This creation would require an altogether new model - the ability to make a choice. This creation would reason and make decisions based on a balance of obedience and desire. One was life - the other certain death. Only he could decide which to chose, but he would not be left without guidance.
This creation would also bear the indelible stamp of the Creator - he would bear His image. Like a potter creating a piece for the throne room of the King, the Creator formed the man, Adam. He spent moments observing the lifeless form of the man and knew that a chain of events had started that would require something only the Creator could give.
He smiled on His creation and then, God breathed.
* * * * *
The rebellion of one brought eleven others to a discovery - their hope was locked in a tomb. The plans they had were wrapped in wishful thinking and now they lamented the loss of a misunderstood friend. The night of His betrayal they had scattered like a torch to a veritable tribe of cockroaches. They scolded themselves for their inability to stand with Jesus.
The women who followed Him were cloaked in a grief too desperate for simple platitudes and colloquialisms. No words reached that inner place of pain and despair. There were no rocks large enough to dam the inner flood that left eyes, throat and lungs raw from the raging flow.
Sixteen soldiers sat outside the tomb and watched, waiting for anyone who would dare retrieve the man’s broken body and fractured heart. They inspected the wax seal and swapped stories about the unusual peasant preacher from Galilee.
The priests stood with an odd mixture of triumph and fear as they gazed at the curtain torn from top to bottom exposing the most holy location to their people. An earthquake had caused such violence that their library and tabernacle were in shambles. They dare not allow the thought that haunted their moments, both waking and in the dark places of sleep. Their adversary was dead and His blood stained more than their hands.
Barabbas walked the streets of Jerusalem in confusion. The crowd had demanded his release and it was granted, yet there was no one to take him in and the desperation of aloneness descended as awkward as it was complete. He was free, but free from what?
The angels stood in confused silence as the body of God’s Son lay lifeless in a borrowed tomb. The outcome was not what they had expected and the exacting of life was beyond description even for such celestial elite.
God Himself finally turned and watched as His Son lay disfigured and stiff. He had to turn His back on His Son in those moments just before Jesus’ death - it was the hardest thing He had ever done. Now it was over and the sins of every human since the incident in the first garden were made clean in His sight - but there was something more and so He watched and waited.
Three days the Father waited knowing what every heart was going through amongst all of creation. Time was irrelevant in the demonstration of love between Father and Son.
The gift of eternal life was waiting to be granted to mankind which is why He kept vigil.
On day three - God breathed!
“Since death came through one man, the resurrection of the dead comes through a man. For as in Adam we all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:21-22 - NIV).
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