I AM EASTER (The Other Side of Forever)

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In one of his lighter moments, Benjamin Franklin penned his own epitaph. Here's what he wrote: The Body of B. Franklin, Printer Like the Cover of an old Book Its contents torn out, And stript of its Lettering and Guilding, Lies here, Food for Worms, But the Work shall not be wholly lost: For it will, as he believ'd, Appear once more In a new & more perfect Edition, Corrected and amended by the Author.

There is such great difficulty in describing Easter because there is so much beyondness in it.  It does not deny death. 

It simply cries out that it is not an end but a beginning.  Try to prove the resurrection?  Even Peter did not try to do this.  It happened.  He related the happening. 

What is Easter? 

It is liberty and freedom from fear.  It is the glad cry in the midst of mourning that we die to live again.  I like the way Emily Dickerson put it, “I will die but that is all I will do for death.”

I am Easter. 

I am the spirit of the risen Lord.  I am the quiet hush of reverence before the love of a God who sacrificed His Son for man.  I am the message of eternity proclaimed from pulpits throughout the land.

I am Easter. 

I am that strange force that swells church attendance and momentarily swells the languid faith of men.  I am like the sun of early morn sweeping away the dark of doubt.  I am the truth of God’s promise now celebrate more than 2000 times.

I am Easter.

I am not a time of the tomb, but rather the reviving cheer of the Resurrection. I am the glad cry that the valley of the shadow of death is a passageway and not a dead-end street.  I am a balm to the wound of the widow.  I am an ambassador for the Great Physician as I give hope to the sick. 

Without me, life becomes a tale told by 600 million protophlastic creations called men.  With me, life becomes a destiny lived by 600 million souls.

I am trampled upon by Easter bunnies hop-hop-hopping down the bunny trail.  I walk a thin line sometimes between holiday and holy day.  But I am not forgotten. 

My true meaning is not obscured even in this.  And I do not believe that my optimism is a drum to my logic as I express my faith of mankind’s faith in what I really am.

 For I believe that man, with all his propensity for the crass, does not forget the Cross.  And that, for all his building, he cannot forget the house not made with hands which is promised to him. 

I am Easter. 

Long have I watched my celebration, in simple country church with quiet dignity, in great cathedral with much pomp and Pageantry.  And I am glad.  For while the mistakes of men concerning my day are many, they do not cause me half so much pain as would be felt were they to forget me completely.

 

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ALREADY STARTED on his other blog WYRICK’S WRITINGS…Serialization of another of his books SIXTY PLUS AND NOT HOLDING 

To read this book

 

CLICK ON THE FOLLOWING URL

http://wyrickswritings.blogspot.com/

Each week there is also a serialization of his novel RUST ON MY SOUL and serialization of another of his books 60 PLUS AND NOT HOLDING

MANY OF THE IDEAS IN THIS BOOK FOR BETTER LIVING ARE GOOD FOR ANY AGE. (This book is about dealing positively with the challenges of getting older and fosters the belief  that “If we would have new knowledge, we must get a world of new questions.”  (Susanne K. Langer)

 

TO VISIT Neil’s other blog WYRICK’S WRITING (A variety of serializations; a novel on Sunday and Tuesday and Thursday varying subjects) (3 times a week added to)

 

CLICK ON THE FOLLOWING URL

http://wyrickswritings.blogspot.com/

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To view his One Man Dramas on film (see by millions, live and on film and on video)(Martin Luther, Ben Franklin, Charles Wesley, Abraham Lincoln)

CLICK ON THE FOLLOWING

http://www.speakerneil.com/

 

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To access info his other book’s and get some great used book prices, go to Amazon.com (books) and type in Neil Wyrick.

 BOUNDARIES UNLIMITED, RUST ON MY SOUL, POOR RICHARD’S ALMANAC, I AM SIXTY PLUS AND NOT HOLDING, THE ABC’S OF PARENTING AND GRANDPARENTING, LETTERS TO AMERICA…

 

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A quote below from ONE A DAY blog entitled SKIN DEEP

He was an unlikely candidate for fame for any reasons.  He had a big nose, a small body and his skin was pale as death itself. 

A woman fell in love with from reading and singing the hymns he wrote but when she met him his appearance was so unsettling there was no place for her love to go but away.  Confused and saddened she said, “I only wish I could admire the casket (jewelry box) as much as I admire the jewel.”

Then this hymn writer suffered a stroke that left him with the ability to speak but took away his ability to write…

 

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