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Remembrance of Me

If Easter really happened, I may rest,                                                                                                                allowed to loose my hands from the outcomes of this day,                                                                            flying freely from an identity beyond my own.                                                                                                   Hope of Glory now resides within,                                                                                                                     the wings of Christ, from which I can do nothing without.

If Easter really happened,
the Sacrifice is finished, my penalties paid in full.
Pain no longer goes without Counsel, nor suffering empathy’s Perfection.
Union no longer without Communion, nor the body apart from the soul.

If Easter really happened, the Savior says, Be still, my beloved, and cast your cares upon me.
My blood is your cleansing—my crucified body the Way to resurrected living.
Where you are weak, tired, inadequate and insecure, I seek you.
Where you are ashamed, unlovable, disappointed and lonely, I love you.
Where you are addicted, adulterous, guilty and greedy, I call you My own.
Where you are, I invite you, Into me, your Hope of Glory.
Where you are, beloved, forever there with you, I will be.
                                                                                    

It is my utmost loss to live as if Easter didn’t happen,
For if Easter really happened
I am forgiven.
From all.
Forevermore.
With but a task of returning Home to such Love
as often as Grace should help me                                                                                                               remember.

Comments

Easter thus falls on the Sunday after the ecclesiastical full moon. The computus is the procedure of determining the first Sunday after the first ecclesiastical full moon falling on or after 21 March and the difficulty arose from doing this over the span of centuries without accurate means of measuring the precise solar or lunar years. -Scott Sohr

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