When my daughter Grace was about four years old, we awoke her early one Easter morn to “hunt” for some colored eggs that my loving wife had hidden in the yard. She was still in her jammies with her hair all awry as she started anxiously for the backdoor. I knew once she found that first egg, the true meaning of the day might be lost, so I grabbed her little arm.
“Honey, do you remember what the true meaning of this day is?” I said, leaning down so I could look into her eyes.
“Sure Daddy,” she paused. “He came alive!”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Happy Resurrection Day and praise to Him who “…came alive!”
“I know that my Redeemer lives and that in the end He will stand on the earth.”