Like Peter, I'll never be the same again. Every Easter song leaves me still and reflective. I find myself standing in my memories, walking across the auditorium, whispering to my garden-friends, "That's him! I know it's him! I can tell by his voice! I've seen him with Jesus! I know it's him! Let's go see if he knows where they've taken Him!"
The Easter Sunday right after our tenth and final performance, I stood in our little country church choir and sang my little parts. I had declined solo offers that season in church, mostly because it was all I could do to keep a strong voice in Hosanna!, work my off-campus job, keep my grades up, and keep two different services' music picked & led. But when we sang our happy Easter hymns, I was probably the happiest person in the sanctuary!!! Nobody smiled as big as I did that morning when Pastor Gary said, "He is Risen!" Our whole assembly answered in unison (my voice perhaps the loudest in the room), "He is Risen, Indeed!"
Through Hosanna! and my part, I realized what it was to be a Jewish maiden in Jesus' time. I know now how easy it would've been to deny and call for His death. I get frustrated when I hear pastors and study groups accuse the Jews of being "so hard headed", or say things like, "How couldn't they know?! Of course He was the one! Of course He was there to save them all!" Really? What makes you think that, if Jesus came back, right now, today, to your local church on Sunday morning, you'd have the slightest idea it was really Him? Would you believe? Or would you be just like they were, whispering under your breath, and challenging Him, looking for some way it wouldn't be real? Isn't it easier to NOT believe than to believe?
My hope is, that through this series of memories, somebody will read these accounts, and think about Easter a little differently this year, and in the future.