Author: Andy Addis

I had an out-of-town speaking engagement back in the place where I grew up. Before heading home, I stopped at one of my favorite local spots for lunch.

Full disclosure—I spent most of the meal eavesdropping.

Eating alone isn’t something I do often, so I did what most of us do: stared at my phone and quietly listened to the conversations around me.

At one table sat a group of young professionals—looked like they worked in emergency services for rural communities. Their conversation was sharp. Focused. Intentional.

They talked about vision for their communities, solutions to real obstacles, and how to distinguish between actual problems and perceived ones. It was engaging, thoughtful… honestly, it sounded a lot like a high-level church leadership meeting.

On the other side of me sat a group of older farmers.

Their conversation?

The rain.

How much they needed it.

When it might come.

What the latest measurements were.

They even polled everyone who walked in—people they mostly knew—collecting rain gauge totals like it was critical data.

Now, to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with talking about the rain. It’s relevant. It’s communal. It connects people.

But here’s what struck me:

Talking about the rain doesn’t change the rain.

⸻

A Word to Older Leaders

I’ve spent most of my ministry speaking to younger leaders—encouraging them to grow in wisdom, think strategically, and lead with clarity.

But after listening to those two tables, I feel compelled to say something to those of us who’ve been at this a while.

Sometimes, we drift into conversations that feel meaningful… but ultimately accomplish very little.

We talk about things we can’t control.

We analyze situations we can’t change.

We revisit problems we have no authority to solve.

In other words—we talk about the rain.

⸻

Work the Field You’ve Been Given

There’s an old principle I’ve heard over the years:

God won’t do what the farmer can do, and the farmer can’t do what God will do.

That’s true in ministry too.

There are things only God can do:

•Change hearts

•Move culture

•Bring revival

•Send the “rain”

And then there are things He has clearly entrusted to us:

•Faithful leadership

•Intentional discipleship

•Clear vision

•Courageous action

The danger comes when we spend our time in God’s lane… instead of working in ours.

⸻

Modern “Rain Talk” in Ministry

It doesn’t always sound like farming conversations.

Sometimes it sounds like:

•“That one guy will never change…”

•“Culture is just too far gone…”

•“Our town will never respond…”

•“We’ve tried that before…”

And while those conversations may be honest… they’re often unproductive.

They don’t move the mission forward.

They don’t strengthen the church.

They don’t change the outcome.

They are just a rain dance.

⸻

Let God Handle the Rain

As we meet, plan, pray, and lead, let’s be intentional about where we spend our energy.

Let’s have conversations marked by:

•Vision

•Solutions

•Faith

•Action

Let’s work the field God has placed in front of us.

And let’s trust Him with what only He can do.

Because at the end of the day…

We can’t control the rain.

But we can be faithful with the harvest.

I lose stuff in plain sight. Are you familiar with that experience?

I’ll ask Kathy to help me find something, and within 10 seconds she walks straight to it, picks it up, and hands it to me. It’s frustrating—but also helpful. What it shows is the human ability to miss things that are right in front of our faces.

If we can do that with car keys, baseball hats, and our own cell phones, I wonder if it’s possible that we do that theologically as well? I believe that we do.

After reading Ephesians chapter 1 today, I was struck by some familiar phraseology—language I’ve sung, preached, and prayed. But I think I’ve missed something.

One of the things I often express as an evangelical—someone who loves to share the good news of Jesus—is that we need to invite Jesus into our hearts. That we need to have Christ in us.

And I wholeheartedly believe that is true. As Paul teaches, we are now the temple—not a physical structure, but the place where He resides. We invite Christ into our lives as the One who stands at the door and knocks.

But Ephesians 1 challenges me to see that this is only one side of a two-sided coin. At least twelve times in that one chapter, there’s a reference to being “in Christ” (in some form or another).

And while that’s related, it’s also completely different.

To have Christ in you is to have Him hidden behind you and coming out through your life, your words, and your opportunities.

But for you to be in Christ is for you to be hidden in Him—submerged in the depths of His grace, plunged in the power of His person, and drenched in the likeness of Him.

Yes, they’re connected, but my nearly exclusive view of “Christ in us” has severely limited the immensity and glory of living a life in Him.

I have a grandson who’s turning one. He’s not afraid of much, but when he is, he clings tightly to his parents—or, if I’m privileged enough to be around, to me. He will literally bury his head against you and try to hide behind you.

To be in Christ is to have that privilege. To not just have your own strength fortified by Christ in you, but in moments of temptation, fear, weariness, or weakness—to literally bury yourself in Him. To hide behind Him. To be… in Him.

I know it’s a nuance—but I think the nuance is worth remembering. For those of you who have asked Christ into your heart and know He is in you, spend a few minutes meditating on the joy of the God who invites you to be in Him!

Plunged beneath the depths. Submerged in the intensity. Protected by the wall of Christ Himself.

I guess I’m not one of those pastors.

You know, the kind who gets frustrated when they see scuff marks on the floor or fingerprints on the glass. The kind who wants everything in the church building to stay pristine.

Instead, when I walk through our empty building in the middle of the week and notice the marks left behind, I don’t feel irritation—I feel inspired.

They told us a concrete floors would be pretty. They also warned us it would be easily scuffed. And wow… were they right. It scuffs easily.

But you know what? I love it.

Because every scuff represents a person who walked through these doors. Every mark was left by someone who showed up—someone who gave their time, their energy, their worship, or their search for hope.

Marks of Ministry

Today, I noticed a new circle of scuff marks, different from any I’d seen before. And it made me pause.

I imagined a couple of families standing there, laughing, connecting, and encouraging each other in life and faith. I pictured their little ones running around them—playing tag, tugging on mom’s arm, causing that wonderful mischief that kids always do in church lobbies. Like baby sharks circling their prey, just waiting for lunch.

I love it.

Or maybe those marks were left by our student ministry playing a game. Teenagers who either love coming to church or were dragged here by a friend or family member. But no matter why they came, they found themselves caught up in a joy they never expected to find in a church. Laughing, smiling, breaking free from the pressures of the world. Finally realizing they don’t have to be anything—because their God was everything for them.

I love it.

Or maybe our collegiate ministry left their mark. A table in the center, chairs pulled close, as they practiced their faith together—growing in community, diving into Bible study, and lifting each other up in prayer. They weren’t just preparing to be the church one day—they are the church today. They are growing, inspiring, and being inspired. They are the future and the present.

I love it.

What Really Matters

So no, I guess I’m not one of those pastors who worries too much about keeping the building perfect. I’ve been criticized for worse.

But today, as I walked through the building and saw those scuff marks, I was reminded of something important:

I’m grateful to be part of a church where things get used—even if that means they get a little used up.

Many blessings, my friends. Let’s remember what truly matters. And in case you forgot—what matters most is the gospel.

Christmas must be the most unlikely holiday to have ever come into existence.

The essence of Christmas isn’t about reindeer, jolly old elves, or even gift-giving; it’s the celebration of the story of the birth of Jesus Christ.

But how in the world did that story ever take hold? 

It’s the most unlikely tale.

Consider His family.
His father was a carpenter—a nobody. His mother, a young girl from a town hidden in the back hills of the rural ancient world. They had no family name, no wealth, no power, no prestige, no influence.

A baby born to such a family should have been a child of obscurity, lost to the flow of history over time.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

And the beginning of His story wasn’t promoted by poets or politicians.
It wasn’t announced as a public, newsworthy event.

Instead, shepherds—outcasts—those with no credibility or reputation were given the task of verifying His arrival and proclaiming to the world that He had come. But who would ever listen to shepherds, especially the ones working the night shift? They were only to be seen and not heard—preferably not even seen.
Yet they were the ones chosen to announce His birth 2,000 years ago.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

But perhaps something greater was stirring.
Kings came from afar to see this child, bringing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They said they had followed ancient documents and celestial signs: a star appearing at just the right time and place. You might think this was the beginning of a story destined to be remembered. 

But no.

The reigning king sought to erase Him, to destroy any potential rival.
Every child in that area, born during that time, was ordered exterminated. History was being rewritten, this child’s story erased before it even began.

Yet, somehow, this small family and their son escaped that hellish attack, fleeing to Egypt for safety.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

He grew up in poverty and obscurity, becoming an itinerant preacher outside all the inner circles of power and influence. A wandering teacher with no support system, no place to lay His head, no title or position to His name.

The powers that be excluded Him, pushed Him to the fringes again and again.
They made sure He wasn’t heard, while they worked to maintain their own control over the people.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

And His followers? The closest to Him were a ragtag group of sketchy men—former tax collectors, political insurgents, failed fishermen.

Not one of them had ever imagined living a life of faith or following a teacher like Him. Yet He chose these twelve to walk with Him for three short years.

Not a lifetime—just three years before it all seemed to come crashing to an end.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

For a moment, it seemed His story might take hold. Crowds began to follow Him. His message began to resonate. But that’s when the religious and political authorities conspired against Him. They sought to silence Him and destroy all He was building. Through false accusations and political lies, He was unjustly tried, savagely beaten, and executed—just like countless others. It was said that Rome lined its roads with crucified men, like you and I might see telephone poles today. And then one day, between two common thieves, He was nailed to His own cross. His life was extinguished.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

He was buried, unceremoniously, in an unmarked tomb—charitably donated by a man who wasn’t even related to Him. His memorial service? Never held.
Instead, soldiers were stationed outside His tomb by order of the religious authorities to ensure no one could create myths or spread stories about Him.

They intended for Him to fade into history, His body decaying in the darkness.

How unlikely is it that we still celebrate His birth?

But then…
Three days later, the tomb was opened.
Light poured out. Angels descended.
And this man rose from the grave.

He was seen—alive—by friends, family, and strangers.
A crowd of 500 bore witness to His resurrection.
And then He ascended into heaven, promising that His Spirit would come.

When it did, thousands bent the knee to follow Him.
With tongues of fire and strange voices—a gift from God Himself—the message of this man turned an entire city upside down.

This child, this teacher, this man who rose from the dead must really who He said He was.

The authorities tried again to extinguish the light.
Persecution scattered His followers to the far corners of the earth.

But instead of extinguishing the light, they carried it with them.
Known as the Diaspora, the church began to spread—
city to city, country to country, continent to continent.

Today, there are approximately 2.4 billion Christians in the world.
Christianity is the world’s largest religion.

And it all began with the birth of one unknown child, in a small town, in a distant land, surrounded by persecution and opposition.

A preacher.
A healer.
Yet, much more.

They sought to destroy Him, but He overcame—
even death itself.

The question is no longer how unlikely it is that we still celebrate His birth;
the question is how unlikely it would be that we wouldn’t.

How did this happen? How did a child of no consequence, born so long ago, make this kind of impact on the world?

Because He was no ordinary child.
His name was Jesus. And He was, and is, God with us.

So this Christmas, every time you see a tree, hear a carol, or marvel at the sparkle of lights, remember: How unlikely it is that 2000 years later we still celebrate the birth of that child.
But we do.

We celebrate because…
“Surely, this must be the Son of God.

(if you’d like a downloadable PDF of this article, click here)

Twas the night before Christmas and the service begun

     The church was all decked out, for holiday fun!

Church members were nestled all snug in their pew

     With wreaths and lights and poinsettias in view

The auditorium was warm to instill Christmas cheer

     And singers were ready with carols near and dear

Then up at the front with sermon notes handy

     A Christmas message, for sure, from old Pastor Andy

The music was great and the message…okay

     But everyone’s thoughts were for the breaking of day

For morning would come with presents and joy

     Mom getting clothes and Dad, of course, toys

When out on the parking lot there arose such a clatter

     We sprang from our seats to see what’s the matter

Running out through the foyer and down the long hall

     We stood in the doorway to watch, one and all

A few feet away was a broken down car

     Dented and scratched, an eye-sore for sure

Then out stepped a man from this beat up ole caddy

     And three youngsters inside, they each called him “Daddy!”

The little old driver was lively and quick

     Worked fast on the engine and gave it a kick

You might think he cursed if you did not listen close

     But, sitting on his bumper, a real prayer he spoke.

“For TASHA, and SHELLY, for LISA and I

     God, we don’t ask for much, just to get by

We’ve nowhere to go and no presents to share

     But we need this old car to get out of cold air

“Their mother has left us, and I’ve made some mistakes

     But, I love them so much it makes my heart ache

I can’t give them a thing except a night on the road

     There’s no Christmas for them, just darkness and cold

“So please hear me God, I feel so alone

     I don’t have a future, I don’t have a home

I just need for you to make my car start

     And maybe some help for the pain in my heart”

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

     Rubbed dirt off his hands; shut the hood with a jerk

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

     He wiped off a tear, and down the street he drove

Quiet and shocked we retreated inside

     To our tinsel and greens and soft candlelight

And the words of a carol seemed to ring out just then

     Saying “Peace on earth, and joy to ALL men”

We looked at each other with confusion of heart

     Our Christmas experience now saddened in part

By a man and his girls on a cold Christmas night

     With miles before them and no end in site

Christmas should be about praise and thanksgiving

     Not “How in the world can I make a living?”

But, those near our churches will miss Christmas this year

     Unless we all tell them the Reason for cheer

Out past the front door and beyond these four walls

     The message must go with a very loud call

“For those lost in sin your Saviour is near”

     We must show the World…King Jesus is here!!!

With words of love, acceptance and grace

     And a helping hand to finish the race

Loving the world with our words and our deeds

     We prove Christmas love by meeting their needs

Go tell it on the mountain

     Over the hills and everywhere

Go tell it on the mountain

     That Jesus Christ is born!

If you grew up in a rural church, you probably sang this song: “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart!”

And if you are serving in leadership as an adult in a rural church, you may spend most of your time on the second line of that same song, asking, “Where?”!

Joy can be elusive to most of us because we confuse it with happiness. Growing up in the middle of nowhere Kansas, I’ve always been told that happiness is like a greased pig — You might catch it for a little while, but you’re certainly not going to hold it forever. It will get away.

You see, happiness is circumstantial. But joy, especially gospel joy, is something completely different.

According to George Barna, almost 38% of pastors have considered leaving the ministry in the past year. If you’re one of those in that category — or maybe on the edge of that statistic —I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on in your heart. I can, however, guess this is true: You are not be finding much joy in what you’re doing.

After 30 years of serving in church ministry, most of them in rurality, let me share three common pitfalls of looking for happiness instead of joy in the rural mission field.

1. Compare and contrast. You may have experienced one of the best-attended Sundays in recent years. It caused your spirit to soar and filled your hope tank to the top and run over. But then, Tuesday morning at The Donut Shop, you run into the pastor of “Slightly Larger Than You Baptist” down the street, who told you they were triple in size and had never seen anything like it! You spend the rest of the morning sitting in your truck, eating the box of donuts you were going to take to the church and share. We get so caught up in comparing budgets, attendance, programs, and any other metric that it robs us of the joy of what God is doing in and through us.

2. Unrealistic expectations. We all believe in God-sized goals, but why do we always mess it up with human-sized effort? We read books about incredible God movements in churches from 100 years ago and 1,000 miles away. We watch YouTube videos with pastors testifying to the outpouring of revival in their congregation. Then we buy the kit, share the book in a group study, pray the prayer, set out the chairs, and cater the event. But when we don’t turn into that church or ministry we saw online, we wonder what’s wrong with us. It robs us of joy.

3. Rural norms. Although it hurts my heart, one of the truths of rurality is that we let that homespun, down-to-earth farmer/rancher work ethic creep into the ministry. I know it’s shocking for me to call this out as a negative, but there is a downside to working like a farmer. They don’t know when to quit. Sunup to sundown, 24/7/365. We even make excuses for them during busy seasons like harvest and tell him we’ll see him in about a month! Where is the Sabbath rest? Where is the healthy rhythm? Where is the time for the gospel? When we work like they do in the church, it can suck the joy right out of you.

These are just a few of the things that can get us stuck on circumstantial happiness and miss gospel joy. So how do we find … no, how do we exchange our pursuit of happiness for the pursuit of joy.

Here’s a familiar passage to challenge us from Philippians 4:10-13 (CSB):

I rejoiced in the Lord greatly because once again you renewed your care for me. You were, in fact, concerned about me but lacked the opportunity to show it. I don’t say this out of need, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I find myself. I know how to make do with little, and I know how to make do with a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content — whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need. I am able to do all things through him who strengthens me.

Whether you’re in a big urban church or a small rural community, there are a couple of truths here that we need to grasp.

The first one is that joy comes from contentment. Obviously, Paul had experienced all kinds of circumstances, good and bad, up and down, thrilling and devastating. But he is saying that a response to circumstances can’t be what drives his mindset. He will not allow the externals to overshadow the amazing work of grace, the fantastic transformation of sanctification, and the unfathomable privilege of a calling that exists internally.

Paul’s joy stems from contentment, whether the church was running full steam ahead or hitting barrier after barrier, whether he was feasting in the home of a new believer or singing in a jail cell with an old friend. If Paul let his circumstances determine his joy, he would be one of the most flighty men you’d ever met. But because his joy was based on what God was doing in him, he was steady as a rock.

The second thing we need to see in this passage is that contentment is supernatural. When you find yourself dissatisfied, depressed, and dissuaded, just telling yourself to be content is like your daddy telling you to quit crying. Do you remember trying to do that? You could pull a muscle, trying not to sniffle.

Contentment isn’t about your effort; it’s a supernatural blessing.

For years, athletes, ministries, and artists have all abused the verse, “I can do all things through Christ.” If you actually put that verse in its context here, it’s about the miracle of contentment. It’s not a promise you can run faster or jump higher, that you can reach your insane goals, or that you can be elevated on some platform for all the world to see. This verse is Paul’s declaration that God can supernaturally produce contentment in the life of his followers no matter the circumstance.

So that’s where the rubber meets the road or, in our rural brethren’s case, where the rubber meets the gravel! I don’t know what it is in your life that draws you to Jesus, brings you closer to God’s heart, or produces an intimacy that brings healing to your soul. But whatever that is, that is what we do to replace our pursuit of happiness with our pursuit of joy!

When you feel the tendency to compare and contrast and just want to sit in the dark and eat a box of doughnuts (sorry, that may be a personal problem), that’s when you need to remember there’s something better than feeling good and being happy. There is a gospel joy that God has, that God gives, and that you can live in.

Run to Him and live in gospel joy!

Also published by the North American Mission Board at: namb.net

I can identify a rural church by listening to its congregation members in three statements or less:

• What are you bringing to the potluck?
• We were late for church ‘cause we had a cow down.
• Huh, we’ve never done that before.

I bet you could add several more to this list without much thought. It’s a pretty fun game to play. But, here’s an another one.

I bet I can identify a rural church in one line or less talking to their pastors. Ready? Here we go:

• I need leaders.

I know the language most are using these days is about starting a “leadership pipeline,” but most rural pastors I know would be more than happy with a leadership garden hose.

The truth is there are all kinds of models and sources of leadership development to model classroom settings, mentorship relationships, and residencies. These different programs have all kinds of potential, and most are scaleable to the rural church’s size and needs.  I don’t even think accessibility is the primary issue since they’ve run those interweb cables all the way out to Po Dunk, USA.

The truth is I think next generation leadership in the rural church has a different and even bigger obstacle. Fortunately it’s one we have complete access to and have the ability to move.

It’s us.

I’ve lead and pastored in rural Kansas since 1989, and here is what I know: there are good people in our churches who are full to the top with Gospel potential but they sit in the pews year after year like stored grain in a silo.

We may need to establish some kind of leadership pipeline but then we need a field to irrigate or the trained and educated go back to sitting, soaking and souring in the pews.

This can be a difficult part of the process for ministry leaders who are used to doing it all.

So, as you lay down your leadership pipeline, get ready to open the release valve in these ways.

You need to Step out so others can step up. If you do everything and make sure the bases are always covered, there is ann incorrect assumption made that “others” are not needed. You and I know that is not the case! For example, if we want young preachers to emerge, we can’t expect them to do that if we fill our own pulpits 52 weeks a year. Stepping out so others can step up has major benefits:

1. It creates space for young leaders to emerge, grow and eventually take a role.
2. It creates margin for the pastor to do something beyond sermon prep.
3. It opens the door for family time as a pastor and his family now have the ability to get away, or at least sit together in church (novel idea, right?)
4. It encourages your church! Sure they won’t preach with your skill or relationship, but the congregation will LOVE to encourage that new young leader as one of their own.

Another way to platform new leaders is to Celebrate all leadership. There are several places of leadership that may never be seen, but need to be acknowledged: administration/finances,student ministry, facilities, children’s ministry, greeters, visitation, deacons, etc. Taking these out of the way ministries and showcasing them as celebrated examples from the pulpit, in the newsletter and on your social media feeds gets attention. Remember, what get’s celebrated gets replicated, so, what you need more of you should consider celebrating immediately.

And, finally consider the Risky Business of embracing the culture of sending. We know that focusing on our seating capacity is not the metric we should be measured by, and yet we continue to play that game of “How many you running?” Remember this little formula when you start feeling that temptation: #≠>.

Yet, even if we do resist the urge to take our own census from time to time, most of struggle with the other end of the spectrum. Not our seating capacity, but our sending capacity.

If we do create a good leadership pipeline and give them room to develop as we step out so they can step up there is no doubt a risk of some of them “moving on.”

But, what’s the real risk?

That we added to the Gospel solution rather than the problem?

That we honored the God-ordained calling of people we were entrusted with to equip for works of service?

That we were part of the answer to the prayer for His church to send workers into the field?

I know it feels like a loss, I am a pastor, too. But, let me remind you what a good friend and colaborer of mine told me while they were loading their moving van: “If this is what God wants for us, then this what He wants for this church.”

God doesn’t rob Peter to pay Paul and we have to believe (and celebrate) when God shows us He has new plans for us!

The rural church does need leaders and how you get them is your choice: residencies, mentorship, cohorts and classes. But, what you do with them next determines whether they become leaders or overtrained members.

Ephesians 4:11–12 says, “And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.”

We know the cause of death; it was the cross. It was not necessarily the injuries to which He succumbed, despite His lack of ability to breathe as His lungs filled with fluid, or His cries from the cross indicating His thirst. His death may not have come from His visible wounds, not just those received hanging there at Golgotha, or from the beating He took coming down the Via Dolorosa to that place, or the scourging received from the Roman soldiers before, or even beating with rods in King Herod’s Court. Not even the roughing up He took before the Sanhedrin… it’s not just possible, not just plausible; it’s actually undeniable that any of us would’ve dropped far sooner than Jesus. Yet, it may not be the injuries to His body that led to His physical death.

It says quite clearly in the text that Jesus gave up His Spirit.

Nonetheless, Jesus breathed his last after 33 years of living on a Friday afternoon. Born of a virgin, He lived a perfect life and died a sacrificial death. He was the incarnate God, 100% God and 100% man—a conjoined uniqueness prophesied for millennia, the Hope of humanity.

His followers stepped up, asking the legal authorities for permission to bury the body. The God of the universe, the Messiah of the nation, and the Hope of glory was laid in a borrowed tomb as a final act of injustice, following the gruesome and torturous execution of Him in His innocence.

We know that Jesus lay in the tomb for three days, but there is speculation as to what took place during that time. The honest truth is that scripture does not paint a clear picture of what Jesus experienced during those three days.

Our human minds struggle with unknowns, which often causes us to fill in the blanks, sometimes leaving room for error.

My speculation may be no different, but I believe there is a very distinct possibility that Jesus did what He always did during those three days: He obeyed the Father.

Let me offer that our 2024, western understanding of “three days in the grave” distinctly differs from how original readers would have seen it.

The truth is that Jesus was in the grave for part of three days but only two nights. The time was counted in a very first-century Hebrew way. Here are the facts: 

• Jesus was placed in the tomb late on Friday before the sun went down and the Sabbath began
• He lay in the grave all day Saturday
• He rose as the sun rose on Sunday morning when the Sabbath ended

The truth is that Jesus lay in the tomb for… a Sabbath: a Friday evening, all day Saturday, and rose on Sunday morning.

What did Jesus do during those days? He did precisely what the Father had instructed each of us to do on the Sabbath… He rested.

I know this might sound shocking, but the truth is that when Jesus died on that Friday, the job was done. When the perfect God-man offered His life as a sacrifice for every human being on the planet, the earth shook, the dead were raised, the temple veil was torn, the sky went dark in the midst of the day… why? Because that’s where the work happened! That’s when redemption occurred! That’s when we were freed from our sins.

Thanks be to God for the Cross of Christ. “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18 (ESV)

When Jesus cried, it is finished; it was finished.

The wrath of God had been satisfied! The payment for our sins had been made in full! The hope of the cross was finally realized! The blood of Jesus poured out, a new covenant begun, and we moved from law to grace, from impossible standards to mercy and kindness, and from hopelessness to hope!

When Jesus left His mortal body, the work had been done as He cried, “Father, into Your hands, I commit My spirit.”

And just as He had always done, He rested on the Sabbath.

Then what was Sunday? What is the purpose of the resurrection?

Isn’t it amazing to contemplate that Christ rose on His own authority, in His own strength, in His own power? Yes, the truth is that on that Sunday morning the stone was rolled away and the body of Jesus Christ could not be found because He was raised in resurrection power, the firstborn of the resurrection. That Jesus Christ came back from the dead in the form and shape that each one of His own will take when there is a new Heaven and a new earth,

There was no tremendous cosmic battle that Sunday morning. It wasn’t a Ying Yang, light versus darkness, Jesus triumphing over Hell. That work had already been done.

Jesus Christ rising on Sunday morning reset the game clock for us all.

We had been separated from God and are now being brought near. We had a debt to be paid and nothing to pay with, and He paid it all for us.

He rose from the grave to put an exclamation point on the fact that what He did on Friday was accomplished, that He was victorious and that all of us who stand beneath the shadow of the cross and are seen through the veil of Jesus and His sacrifice are now saved by His blood.

God could have done the deed of saving us, accepting us, and restoring us at any moment, but to do it prematurely would’ve meant a sacrifice of His holiness and righteousness.

Only when Jesus Christ had paid the price, the debt canceled, and the divine wrath of God satisfied would the saving of humanity be both mercy for us and righteousness for Him!

The resurrection was evidence that everything had gone according to plan, that the debt had been paid, and that we are now restored to a right relationship with a holy God whose power was never in question and whose mercy is unimaginable.

The resurrection means that everything He said was true, everything He did was accomplished, and everything we hoped for has been realized.

Jesus paid the price for us on the cross and went to the grave. If He had stayed in the grave, we might wonder continually whether or not God had accepted that sacrifice. But, thanks be to God, when Jesus Christ rose from the grave, He rose gloriously and proclaimed victoriously that the battle was over, the victory was won, and the debt had been paid in full. 

All authority in Heaven and on earth had been given to Jesus, which He used it to perform the perfect sacrifice on our behalf, and now we can return to the place that God had intended us to be from the very beginning… with Him.