Mourning to Morning

It's Monday, the weekend over, and the schoolwork to be done. But this week is special.

When something is special, it could be for a number of reasons. As we all have known and acknowledged, everyone has their own eyes, their own view, and their own perception. It's a fact. And a well known one.
I would most certainly be correct if I were to say that every week in the life of all of us (for at the moment you are alive) was special in it's own way.

After all, time is a gift. A gift from God.

Alas, we most often forget that this is truth. Sometimes we do not take care to savor the days we receive. Often we doubt if these moments have any particular relevance in the least bit.

But earnestly I say: this week is special, to both you and me.

Once upon a measure of time, in a land far enough from where I type, a king rode on a donkey's back. His people cheered from the streets, raising their voices, proclaiming his name.
And glory was given to the one who deserved it all.

Then the time dawned.

For this was the time that had been soon in coming before there was a dawn in time. Before the sun came forth and showed is face among the stars, before the animals were sung into existence, and before man walked the face of the place called 'Earth', this moment was being ratified.

The Son of YHWH was to be Savior of all humankind.

---A big feat for someone even bigger.

And in the day to come, my Lord gave up his life, dying a bloody, horrific death, only to save the idiot that I am.
At this I puzzle. Why would he do that? What madness would drive a man to willingly lay down the strength that he had to save someone not worthy to look into his eyes?

The answer? It was not madness, but love.

Love so powerful, it cast out all shadows, devoured all darkness, swallowed all evil, and became bane to all suffering, agony and pain.
The power of love is no small thing.

As he hung from the nails in his hands, tortured by pain, and blinded by the blood from his brow, the only thing he could say was "Father, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing".

It takes my breath away. How could he bear it?
The dawn was black, the curtain torn, and the tears of the people fell into the dust of the planet. The hour had arrived, and death entered through the door.

He lay under the earth. Asleep without dreams. Hope was not found.

Miracles of the past were doubted, many who once saw became blind. The cross that bore the sins of all brought only memory of despair and disappointment.
The beauty of life and time dissolved.

Until the sun rose on the third day.

Awake all children of the Father! Rise from your sleep! The one who died has bested the spear of death! He is alive!

HE IS ALIVE

In this I stand.
In this I live.
In this my all to him I give.

This is a special week.

-Plink