About five years ago,
my family traveled to Japan. When the last day arrived, we were reluctant to
leave the tropical island. Standing on the shore of the East China Sea, my
husband urged me to take a long last look. “After all,” he insisted, “we will
probably never return to this place.”
That day, I stopped
what I was doing and carefully examined the exotic scene: the green moss
covered coral reefs, the grey blue water stretching as far as I could see, the
sea shells littering the white sand. I took a deep breath and concentrated…this
was my last glimpse of Okinawa.
Last moments are
meant to be savored because they may never happen again. But all too often last
moments have a way of sneaking up on us. We don’t realize they are the “last” until
they are gone.
In 1998, my dad
died of a heart attack at the age of 60. His death stunned my family. There
were no last moments. No last chances to say good-bye, to tell him how much we
loved him. He was with us one moment and gone the next. Even when I try to
remember the last time I spoke to him, the exact words are not clear. It was
one of those ordinary conversations, and I did not appreciate it until it was
past. My last moments with my dad were in a hospital room, when he was already
on the other shore.
At this Easter
season, we remember the last moments of Jesus’ time on earth. For the
disciples, the moments leading up to Jesus’ death on the cross were marked by
shame and fear. I am sure the disciples remember those hours with regret. Why
did they fall asleep during those last moments in the garden?
Couldn’t they
have remained alert in his time of need? I am sure that Peter probably played
over and over those last hours before the crucifixion. He may have recalled in
excruciating detail each denial of His Savior. The Bible says that three times
he denied knowing Jesus. Three times!
I am sure the
disciples wished those last moments had been different– that they could have
stood up for Jesus, testified on his behalf, carried the cross, waited while he
breathed his final breath. But they did not. Their last moments with Jesus were
not proud ones.
So imagine their
joy a few days later when Jesus rose from the grave and walked up to them. In
that one magnificent moment, those last moments of shame were erased! Here was
their Savior, in all of His glory. They had one more chance, one more last
time!
This interaction
with the resurrected Jesus was not marked by shame and regret but by
forgiveness and challenge. Jesus commissioned his followers, sending them
forward. This was not the end, he seems to say, this is only the beginning.
“Go, and make disciples."
The day after my
father died, I was searching for piano music to play at his funeral. He was our
church pianist, and his all-time favorite hymn was the old gospel tune,
“Victory in Jesus.” As I opened the
piano bench to find the sheet music, I noticed a bright yellow post-it-note he
had placed on top of his hymn book. He had hand-written these words in capital
letters: “My Hope Is in the Lord!”
My last moments
of sadness suddenly were transformed by a convicting sense of peace. My dad was
not gone forever. My last moments with him would not end with
this grave, because as believers in Christ, we know that this is not the
end of the story. This life is only the beginning. I will see my dad again in
Heaven.
As you celebrate
this Easter with your family, I urge you to stop and savor the treasures you
have been given on this earth. But we must also remember to look to our Risen
Savior as a promise. When we believe in Him, when we look to the promise of
Easter morning, we are reassured that this is not the end, these are not our
last moments.
In Christ, this
is only the beginning.
Comments
Amen to the resurrection and the promises that come with it!