With Easter tomorrow, I realize that some people do an excellent job blogging about religious days. I wouldn’t count myself as one of those people. The last time I remember blogging about a Christian holiday was in 2011 when I spent Easter in Orvieto, Italy, and participated in the 14 Stations of the Cross.
It’s not that I don’t care about religious holidays. In fact, I care very much about them.
Instead, I feel like the words that I want to say can never measure up to the immensity and gravity of what the day represents. Because, really, how can words truly capture the gratitude that I feel over the fact that God became flesh and was willing to die for us? To go through not only the pain of physical death, but cover me for sins that I could never atone for on my own?
There are no words.
But that’s the point. Because if there were words, then I’d start to feel like I was giving something back and deserved this grace that has been given freely, and there’s no way to ever deserve that grace.
And so the only thing that I can really say when I think about the fact that my Savior suffered and died on a cross so that I could have eternal life is “Thank you.” And those words have to be enough.
Because after he was put to death on the cross, he rose three days later so that I can live.