Uncomfortable

Most of us don't equate pain as good..
Or torture as good...
Or suffering as good...
Or hatred as good...
Or betrayal as good...
Or beating as good...
Or death as good.

These things are unpleasant. They cause us heartache, tears, sorrow and all for good reason. And as I think of these things that Jesus endured...not to mention my own personal sin that alone set Him to die this horrific death I can't help but think as a Christian, I'm quick to skip right past the death of Christ and right to the resurrection....because to think on that death is uncomfortable.

Passion Week is a time to reflect on the beautiful life, terrible death and glorious resurrection. It's a time to rejoice that we have a God who keeps His promises. But, just for today....for this Friday....could we take a moment to think about our own responsibility in sending HIM to the cross? Could we think about the spear in His side for us? the crown of thorns slammed down into skull? the blood streaming down His body? the agony? pain? betrayal? and torture?

Yes, it's uncomfortable. It should bring us tears and sorrow and heartache. And well, to be honest, that's not the kind of thing most of us (me) like to spend time dwelling on for too long. It's my belief that maybe, if we just took a little more time to think on our part and the actual act of Jesus taking our sin upon Himself in this most self-less act of love, that we might learn to live more abundantly, forgive more freely, bless others more readily, share His story more often, give thanks more regularly, sin less and maybe take hold of what Easter is really all about...

Because we do have hope

Hope that He's coming again..Hope in a new heaven and earth...Hope in the promise of kingdom worship, Hope in His glorious appearing.....

All because....Sunday's comin'.

When Fear and Faith Collide

Can you imagine...They had just witnessed three days before the brutal crucifixion of their Savior. The bloody mess of a broken body...cleaned, wrapped and placed in the tomb. They had seen it with their eyes...their worst fears realized...confirmed. Death had stung. Mourning and praying and sadness and sorrow. Their beloved...the one who loved them more than even they could imagine dead.

And then....can you imagine....Coming to the tomb and seeing the stone rolled away...the emptiness of the grace exposed...the absence of a body wrapped. The defeat of the grave. The remembrance of a promise...the promise....the return of life...the Life....the beauty of renewed faith. The moment when onlooker's fear and faith collide.

Things haven't changed much have they? In this world it's easy to be captivated by our fears...even ones that are completely rational. But instead of the fears controlling us, our hearts should be focused on the promise. Does this mean our fears magically disappear? Nope. But it does mean that our heart is fixed on Jesus. You know Him...the one who never leaves us or forsakes us, the one who gives peace beyond measurement, the one who is the vine (our lifeline), and the one who abides in us and we in Him. 

Aren't you thankful His promises are bigger than our fears?  

Easter Pics and Wrap Up

I took a little challenge this Easter to focus more on what Holy Week really means. I learned so much from reading the story of the Crucifixion and Resurrection slowly and deliberately. It made me question why I had found such a need to read large portions of scripture at a fast pace (...like the entire Bible in a short amount of time). I found so many truths staring me in the face as I read short portions and meditated on them. Truthfully, tears stained my face daily as I read of the great perfect love the Father God has for us and the beautiful, unselfish sacrifice that He made for humanity by giving us His son. It was a wake-up call for a more intentional personal sacrifice in my own life. I'm not sure what that is going to look like...but I'm very excited to find out!

One of the most meaningful (to me) things that I did was at school. On Maundy Thursday I washed the feet of the children in my class as a demonstration of what Christ did for the disciples. You can't imagine the myriad of questions and comments that can come from 8 four and five year olds. In those 20 minutes, as the water washed over their feet we talked about how dirty those sandal wearing feet of the disciples must have been, how gross and cracked and dry. We talked about how perfect Jesus was and how it didn't seem right for Him to be doing the washing....why didn't the disciples wash His feet? We talked about the meaning of humility and devotion and servanthood and kindness and meekness and about doing for those who don't deserve it. It was a beautiful time of worship and will by far be the best...the most precious memory I have with my class for this year. I think perhaps I learned more from it than anyone.

Our family didn't do anything too extravagant on Easter day....church, lunch and then a small Easter egg hunt with the TX grandparents and then one of the most beautiful times of communion I have had in a long time (not that it isn't always beautiful...it's me that gets in the way). Then a quick bite to eat with friends before the start of another busy week. 

How did you celebrate the resurrection? Did you do anything intentional so that your family would remember the real meaning? I'd love to hear about it!

This do...

Communion....those words..."This do in remembrance of me." The breaking of break, the drinking of the fruit of the vine....the quiet surrender of wills and emotions in confession of sins, the joyous hymn sung when it's all been said and done. Simply put, it's beautiful.

It's one of my favorite purposes of the church....the communion shared together at the Lord's Super. There's just something about gathering with a group of people for the "soul" purpose of remembering....what Christ did on the cross, what He conquered through His death and burial and resurrection, what He's saved us from and to, what forgiveness and grace are readily ours. It's in remembering all these things and more that we come into that quiet place of communion with the Father...where we realize how much He's done. It's where we realize the beautiful simplicity of brokenness and nothingness. It's where we confess our sins and instantly feel the weight of oppression fall off our backs.

Confession....boy there was a lot of that going on from me tonight....Blurred lines between my self-worth and my pride, masks of happiness covering hurts and ultimately bad attitudes. Eyes fixed on man rather than God. Time wasted versus time spent with the Savior. Confession....it felt good. Those shackles and chains fell right off at the mention of the power of Jesus blood and forgiveness of sins. Freedom embraced those emptied places.

And just like lemonade on a hot summer day, there's nothing quite like communion with your church after confession. That raw emotion that confession brings out, is softened by the grace extended in forgiveness and while the heart and soul thirst for the fulfillment communion brings, restoration from the Heavenly Father touches those hurting holes with healing and makes all things new.

Thank you Lord for a visual reminder that you've endured it all..Thank you for forgiveness, your cleansing power and for new fresh starts each day!

Promise Fulfilled

He is risen.....just as He said!

There's one thing you can always count on. When God says it...it's gonna happen. Sometimes not the way that my finite mind can understand or fathom, but it's gonna happen. When He promises something, He comes through. He doesn't leave me hanging, abandon me, walk away or give me a rain check. He fulfills His promise, keeps His Word, pays up.

On Easter morning, when the eyes of believers and skeptics alike were on the tomb, there was no exception. It had been prophesied, promised, talked about and now was being fulfilled. 

In a world where people don't keep their word, a gentlemen's handshake is worthless and good character is getting harder to find, remember, God's the only one who gets the 100% endorsement that He will never leave us or forsake us. Let's keep our eyes on the only perfect promise keeper. He won't disappoint!

Praying you and yours know the power of the promise! Happy Easter!

Now We Wait

Imagine being a believer who had just watched their precious Savior die a cruel death. You felt the earth tremble, saw the veil torn and experience noonday darkness. If there had ever been a doubt in your mind that He was who He said He was...it's gone.

You know the promise (Matthew 16:21). He said...three days....so, now you wait.

Willing to Pay the Price

No one forced Him. Not even God. No one manipulated the circumstances to trick Him. He knew. No one pulled the wool over His eyes. He saw everything that was coming. His death did not sneak up on Him. He was aware of every small detail His Father had planned. The supper, the feet washing, the prayer in the garden, the kiss of betrayal, the rooster crowing, the crowds chanting, the nine tails of a beating, the spit, the vinegar, the spear, the nails, the dice, the everything....every last detail. He was willing to endure every last detail to make all the promises that had ever been made true about Him, His death and His resurrection complete.

He didn't suffer less because he was God in man. He didn't feel less, endure less or go through less because he was a super man. He didn't have an out of body experience. He felt every sting, every jolt, every stripe, every ugly word, every betrayal, every sin....mine and yours.

That's what overwhelms me today....on Good Friday. His sacrifice was more than I can even imagine. His death more powerful and promising than His birth...because it was another promise...however unpleasant....that shouted from heaven to earth that GOD always keeps His promises....His Love had come and now hung, willingly dying, for the sins...all the sins...of the world.

Thank you for the cross.....it made all the difference for me....for the world!

Maundy Thursday...What is it?

I've never been a member of a church that celebrated Maundy Thursday, so in my preparations to make Easter more meaningful for my own family this year, I did a little research. Here's what I found out. Maundy Thursday is the day of Holy Week (Passion Week, some call it) that represents the last supper....the washing of feet....the last purely intimate time the disciples had with Jesus. There was the breaking of bread, the drinking of wine and then there was..the foot washing. The foot washing.

About ten and a half years ago Bruce and I went to a Pastor's retreat in Red River, New Mexico. The retreat accommodations where lovely and the church that hosted the retreat was probably the most friendly bunch of Christians I have ever met. We had been to the retreat the year before and connected with some of the families in the church and enjoyed our fellowship there. On the last day of the conference though, something happened that will forever be etched in my memory. The pastor had all the other pastoral staff couples (including Bruce and I) gather in a circle and sit down. He then asked us to take our shoes off. I was nearly petrified as I had not had a pedicure in who knows when, but as other well worn feet slipped from their shoes, I too slid my feet from my shoes. And then, as if on cue, one couple for each ministry couple emerged from a side room. Husband holding a large bowl of water and Wife holding neatly folded white towels across her arm. Our couple knelt before us, and gently placed one foot at a time in the warm water, taking a cloth and washing over our dirty, dry, cracked, calloused feet. First one foot, then the other. First pastor then wife. In silence, they lovingly, gently, kindly washed our feet. It was that same type of action...the Maundy Thursday kind of action....the love each other as you want to be loved action...that has stayed with me all these years.

See, Maundy Thursday was an act of humility from our King Jesus. In all His majesty, he washed the disciples feet....even the feet of the one who would betray him. O.U.C.H. He knew...and yet He washed...because Maundy Thursday was about love....about loving when it's dirty, inconvenient, unfair, humiliating, hurtful and when you know betrayal is next. It's about thinking of others more highly than you do yourself, about going the extra mile and remembering that everyone who walks in this world has dirty feet. Even yourself. Even me.

Why Teach?

Face it. I teach four year olds and most of my mornings with them consists of Crayola's and Stephen Fite songs, but every once in a while a moment takes my breath away. One such moment happened today.

We've been creating our own dozen resurrection eggs for the kids to take home their set and share with their parents. All last week we were busy filled the eggs and learned the resurrection story. Today we finished up with the last two days and when I got to the last day I gathered the students close and talked about the empty grave. I'm not really sure what happened, only that, in that brief moment, no one talked, every set of eyes was fixed on me and that for once this year 8 little children sat in amazement at the miracle story of the Resurrection of Jesus. Finding out the tomb was empty fascinated them.

I confess, as I watched them, a tear streamed down my face and I found myself choked up by their innocent excitement and maybe even more by the sacrifice HE made. Like a chef who has discovered a great recipe, they were giddy. They had finally discovered the hope and the reason for everything we had already talked about in the resurrection story...the bread, the garden, the crown of thorns, the dice, the darkness over the earth, the white burial cloth, the sponge of vinegar and more. These things had to happen in order for us to experience the greatest miracle of all times. Resurrection.

This is why I teach. It's not to impress anyone or get praise or get a paycheck or to teach a kid to read or write. Solely...100% it is to teach children about a God who keeps His promises. Is it my responsibility to do this....not solely, but it is my responsibility as a Christian to share the gospel with others. I'm so thankful that includes my class of energetic four year olds!

Holy Week Reflection

Check out this new song from Matt Papa.... IT IS FINISHED

Small Changes

A few things that changed this week:

1. Spring clothes unpacked

2. Winter clothes packed

3. Shoe organizer bought

4. Plan for our own version of Trading Spaces....bedroom edition (stay tuned for the details)

5. Morning routines posted in bathroom for both kids (thinking about making Bruce one --hehe)

6. Threw away some old....really old....really worn out clothes

7. Bought new storage containers 

8. Took Valentines decor off tree.... I'll be doing THIS for Easter

9. Cleaned off the kitchen table and redid centerpiece for spring

10. Took 5 bags of trash out of my house.....WHERE DOES IT ALL COME FROM!!!

One reason I am posting this is to convince myself that I'm heading in the right direction! Boy is there a ton to get done....and I am determined to have it done by the time school is out for the summer....cause I don't want to spend my summer doing it!!!

Do you have an organizational tip you want to share....I'm all ears!

Resurrection Thoughts

Gentle Savior

Quiet Reminders

Keeps His Promise

Rises

Grave clothes discarded

Stone rolled away

Angels attending

An empty grave

Grieving woman

Questioning His disappearance

Wondering

Doubting apparent

Comforts Mary

Speaks her name

She tells others

They're amazed.

Death where is your sting?

Grave -your victory?

Hell has been defeated

The grave could not hold HIM down!

Wordless Wednesday

OK....1 Word....SPRING!

Reflections on Good Friday

I've often wondered how Christians can call such a horrible day in our faith history "good". Oh, I understand it was because of Jesus death that mankind received a good and perfect gift, but somehow I think it might also ease or at least diminish what Christ did for us 72 hours before the resurrection. Below is something that Bruce has shared in a sermon before. Warning...it's graphic, but unlike Hollywood, will give you a more clear picture of what happened on the cross that day. May we never forget the high price that was paid.

A Physician Testifies About the Crucifixion
by Dr. C. Truman Davis

About a decade ago, reading Jim Bishop's The Day Christ Died, I realized that I had for years taken the Crucifixion more or less for granted -- that I had grown callous to its horror by a too easy familiarity with the grim details and a too distant friendship with our Lord. It finally occurred to me that, though a physician, I didn't even know the actual immediate cause of death. The Gospel writers don't help us much on this point, because crucifixion and scourging were so common during their lifetime that they apparently considered a detailed description unnecessary. So we have only the concise words of the Evangelists: "Pilate, having scourged Jesus, delivered Him to them to be crucified -- and they crucified Him."

I have no competence to discuss the infinite psychic and spiritual suffering of the Incarnate God atoning for the sins of fallen man. But it seemed to me that as a physician I might pursue the physiological and anatomical aspects of our Lord's passonate some detail. What did the body of Jesus of Nazareth actually endure during those hours of torture?

This led me first to a study of the practice of crucifixion itself; that is, torture and execution by fixation to a cross. I am indebted to many who have studied this subject in the past, and especially to a contemporary colleague, Dr. Pierre Barbet, a French surgeon who has done exhaustive historical and experimental research and has written extensively on the subject.

Apparently, the first known practice of crucifixion was by the Persians. Alexander and his generals brought it back to the Mediterranean world -- to Egypt and to Carthage. The Romans apparently learned the practice from the Carthaginians and (as with almost everything the Romans did) rapidly developed a very high degree of efficiency and skill at it. A number of Roman authors (Livy, Cicer, Tacitus) comment on crucifixion, and several innovations, modifications, and variations are described in the ancient literature.

For instance, the upright portion of the cross (or stipes) could have the cross-arm (or patibulum) attached two or three feet below its top in what we commonly think of as the Latin cross. The most common form used in our Lord's day, however, was the Tau cross, shaped like our T. In this cross the patibulum was placed in a notch at the top of the stipes. There is archeological evidence that it was on this type of cross that Jesus was crucified.

Without any historical or biblical proof, Medieval and Renaissance painters have given us our picture of Christ carrying the entire cross. But the upright post, or stipes, was generally fixed permanently in the ground at the site of execution and the condemned man was forced to carry the patibulum, weighing about 110 pounds, from the prison to the place of execution.

Many of the painters and most of the sculptors of crucifixion, also show the nails through the palms. Historical Roman accounts and experimental work have established that the nails were driven between the small bones of the wrists (radial and ulna) and not through the palms. Nails driven through the palms will strip out between the fingers when made to support the weight of the human body. The misconception may have come about through a misunderstanding of Jesus' words to Thomas, "Observe my hands." Anatomists, both modern and ancient, have always considered the wrist as part of the hand.

A titulus, or small sign, stating the victim's crime was usually placed on a staff, carried at the front of the procession from the prison, and later nailed to the cross so that it extended above the head. This sign with its staff nailed to the top of the cross would have given it somewhat the characteristic form of the Latin cross.

But, of course, the physical passion of the Christ began in Gethsemane. Of the many aspects of this initial suffering, the one of greatest physiological interest is the bloody sweat. It is interesting that St. Luke, the physician, is the only one to mention this. He says, "And being in Agony, He prayed the longer. And His sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground."

Every ruse (trick) imaginable has been used by modern scholars to explain away this description, apparently under the mistaken impression that this just doesn't happen. A great deal of effort could have been saved had the doubters consulted the medical literature. Though very rare, the phenomenon of Hematidrosis, or bloody sweat, is well documented. Under great emotional stress of the kind our Lord suffered, tiny capillaries in the sweat glands can break, thus mixing blood with sweat. This process might well have produced marked weakness and possible shock.

After the arrest in the middle of the night, Jesus was next brought before the Sanhedrin and Caiphus, the High Priest; it is here that the first physical trauma was inflicted. A soldier struck Jesus across the face for remaining silent when questioned by Caiphus. The palace guards then blind-folded Him and mockingly taunted Him to identify them as they each passed by, spat upon Him, and struck Him in the face.

In the early morning, battered and bruised, dehydrated, and exhausted from a sleepless night, Jesus is taken across the Praetorium of the Fortress Antonia, the seat of government of the Procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate. You are, of course, familiar with Pilate's action in attempting to pass responsibility to Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch of Judea. Jesus apparently suffered no physical mistreatment at the hands of Herod and was returned to Pilate. It was in response to the cries of the mob, that Pilate ordered Bar-Abbas released and condemned Jesus to scourging and crucifixion.

There is much disagreement among authorities about the unusual scourging as a prelude to crucifixion. Most Roman writers from this period do not associate the two. Many scholars believe that Pilate originally ordered Jesus scourged as his full punishment and that the death sentence by crucifixion came only in response to the taunt by the mob that the Procurator was not properly defending Caesar against this pretender who allegedly claimed to be the King of the Jews.

Preparations for the scourging were carried out when the Prisoner was stripped of His clothing and His hands tied to a post above His head. It is doubtful the Romans would have made any attempt to follow the Jewish law in this matter, but the Jews had an ancient law prohibiting more than forty lashes.

The Roman legionnaire steps forward with the flagrum (or flagellum) in his hand. This is a short whip consisting of several heavy, leather thongs with two small balls of lead attached near the ends of each. The heavy whip is brought down with full force again and again across Jesus' shoulders, back, and legs. At first the thongs cut through the skin only. Then, as the blows continue, they cut deeper into the subcutaneous tissues, producing first an oozing of blood from the capillaries and veins of the skin, and finally spurting arterial bleeding from vessels in the underlying muscles.

The small balls of lead first produce large, deep bruises which are broken open by subsequent blows. Finally the skin of the back is hanging in long ribbons and the entire area is an unrecognizable mass of torn, bleeding tissue. When it is determined by the centurion in charge that the prisoner is near death, the beating is finally stopped.

The half-fainting Jesus is then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with His own blood. The Roman soldiers see a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be king. They throw a robe across His shoulders and place a stick in His hand for a scepter. They still need a crown to make their travesty complete. Flexible branches covered with long thorns (commonly used in bundles for firewood) are plaited into the shape of a crown and this is pressed into His scalp. Again there is copious bleeding, the scalp being one of the most vascular areas of the body.

After mocking Him and striking Him across the face, the soldiers take the stick from His hand and strike Him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into His scalp. Finally, they tire of their sadistic sport and the robe is torn from His back. Already having adhered to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, its removal causes excruciating pain just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage, and almost as though He were again being whipped the wounds once more begin to bleed.

In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans return His garments. The heavy patibulum of the cross is tied across His shoulders, and the procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution detail of Roman soldiers headed by a centurion begins its slow journey along the Via Dolorosa. In spite of His efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious blood loss, is too much. He stumbles and falls. The rough wood of the beam gouges into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders. He tries to rise, but human muscles have been pushed beyond their endurance.

The centurion, anxious to get on with the crucifixion, selects a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross. Jesus follows, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock, until the 650 yard journey from the fortress Antonia to Golgotha is finally completed.

Jesus is offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic mixture. He refuses to drink. Simon is ordered to place the patibulum on the ground and Jesus quickly thrown backward with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drives a heavy, square, wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Quickly, he moves to the other side and repeats the action being careful not to pull the arms to tightly, but to allow some flexion and movement. The patibulum is then lifted in place at the top of the stipes and the titulus reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" is nailed in place.

The left foot is now pressed backward against the right foot, and with both feet extended, toes down, a nail is driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees moderately flexed. The Victim is now crucified. As He slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in the wrists excruciating pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain -- the nails in the writs are putting pressure on the median nerves. As He pushes Himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He places His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again there is the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of the feet.

At this point, as the arms fatigue, great waves of cramps sweep over the muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless, throbbing pain. With these cramps comes the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by his arms, the pectoral muscles are paralyzed and the intercostal muscles are unable to act. Air can be drawn into the lungs, but cannot be exhaled. Jesus fights to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, carbon dioxide builds up in the lungs and in the blood stream and the cramps partially subside. Spasmodically, he is able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in the life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences recorded:

The first, looking down at the Roman soldiers throwing dice for His seamless garment, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

The second, to the penitent thief, "Today thou shalt be with me in Paradise."

The third, looking down at the terrified, grief-stricken adolescent John -- the beloved Apostle -- he said, "Behold thy mother." Then, looking to His mother Mary, "Woman behold thy son."

The fourth cry is from the beginning of the 22nd Psalm, "My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?"

Hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, searing pain where tissue is torn from His lacerated back as He moves up and down against the rough timber. Then another agony begins...A terrible crushing pain deep in the chest as the pericardium slowly fills with serum and begins to compress the heart.

One remembers again the 22nd Psalm, the 14th verse: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels."

It is now almost over. The loss of tissue fluids has reached a critical level; the compressed heart is struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissue; the tortured lungs are making a frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues send their flood of stimuli to the brain.

Jesus gasps His fifth cry, "I thirst."

One remembers another verse from the prophetic 22nd Psalm: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou has brought me into the dust of death."

A sponge soaked in posca, the cheap, sour wine which is the staple drink of the Roman legionaries, is lifted to His lips. He apparently doesn't take any of the liquid. The body of Jesus is now in extremes, and He can feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. This realization brings out His sixth words, possibly little more than a tortured whisper, "It is finished."

His mission of atonement has completed. Finally He can allow his body to die.

With one last surge of strength, he once again presses His torn feet against the nail, straightens His legs, takes a deeper breath, and utters His seventh and last cry, "Father! Into thy hands I commit my spirit."

The rest you know. In order that the Sabbath not be profaned, the Jews asked that the condemned men be dispatched and removed from the crosses. The common method of ending a crucifixion was by crurifracture, the breaking of the bones of the legs. This prevented the victim from pushing himself upward; thus the tension could not be relieved from the muscles of the chest and rapid suffocation occurred. The legs of the two thieves were broken, but when the soldiers came to Jesus they saw that this was unnecessary.

Apparently to make doubly sure of death, the legionnaire drove his lance through the fifth interspace between the ribs, upward through the pericardium and into the heart. The 34th verse of the 19th chapter of the Gospel according to St. John reports: "And immediately there came out blood and water." That is, there was an escape of water fluid from the sac surrounding the heart, giving postmortem evidence that Our Lord died not the usual crucifixion death by suffocation, but of heart failure (a broken heart) due to shock and constriction of the heart by fluid in the pericardium.

Thus we have had our glimpse -- including the medical evidence -- of that epitome of evil which man has exhibited toward Man and toward God. It has been a terrible sight, and more than enough to leave us despondent and depressed. How grateful we can be that we have the great sequel in the infinite mercy of God toward man -- at once the miracle of the atonement (at one ment) and the expectation of the triumphant Easter morning.