Old Testament Origins Of The Resurrection

It is sometimes thought that the Christian doctrine of the resurrection finds its genesis in the historical New Testament fact of the resurrection of Jesus. Although this teaching, the central truth of the gospel and Christianity, finds its concrete fulfilment in the cry of the angel, ''He is risen," on that resurrection morning. its origins are deeply rooted in the oldest book in the Bible.
It was Job, in the oldest book in the Bible, who first placed into Biblical print that question of all questions about man's mortality or immortality when he rhetorically cried, "If a man die, shall he live again?" (Job 14:14) Then. after speculating on the fact that even a tree has a hope of a new life when a sprout springs from its stump, he goes on to resoundingly answer his own question when he affirms, "I know my redeemer liveth. and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth .. and though my body be destroyed .. yet in my flesh shall I see God.". (Job 19:25-26)
Man's quest for such immortality permeates all history and transcends all cultures. The pharaoh's were buried in preparation for the possibility of an after-life. So were the nobility and religious elite of many other cultures on every continent. The search for immortality prompted the Spanish explorer, Ponce de Leon, to explore what is now the state of Florida, searching for a reputed fountain of youth. Of course, he did not find it, but came to the end of his mortal life at the point of an Indian's arrow
Charlatans and con-artists throughout the centuries have taken advantage of man's ceaseless search for an answer to the riddle of immortality.  The ancient alchemists, with their fraudulent formulas and elixirs of life, give testimony to the absurdity of some aspects of that endless quest.

Even today we see .continuing manifestations of such sad seeking. The New Age movement, which is nothing more than a revival of certain aspects of Hinduism and ancient Eastern mystic religions, plays upon man's innate spiritual hunger and thirst for spiritual immortality. Re-incarnation, spiritism, channelling and the like, are all based upon a certain presumption of the possibility of individual renewal or resurrection of life.
But for Christians the matter is settled once and for all in the gospel record of Christ's victory over death, hell and the grave that wonderful resurrection morning. It is surely as the apostle Paul once said, "If Christ is not risen, we are of all men most miserable" The risen Christ is the Christian's blessed hope. When man faces death, the common denominator of all mankind, what other hope would suffice? The Christian's quest joyously ends at that empty tomb where an angel once cried, "He is not here, He is risen!" Pastor John White
The Blessed Hope

There rests within the breast, Of those who wait for Him,
A fervent, burning, hope for rest, From sin in every limb,
Longing ever to be free, From the prison of this flesh,
By faith the empty tomb we see, And our hearts are filled with bliss.
And echoing as we pause and listen, The angel's cry, "He is risen!"

The Cross Of Christ

On the south coast of China, high on a hill that overlooks the harbor of Macao, the Portuguese settlers of that colony erected a massive cathedral. But one of the powerful typhoons that regularly wreck havoc with the works of mans hands, virtually destroyed this impressive edifice. For many years the building lay in ruins. Only the front wall stubbornly remained. As the years passed, high atop that jutting wall a large bronze cross pierced the sky, as if defying the elements.

Sir John Bowring, a onetime governor of Hong Kong, was a gifted naturalist, statesman, political economist and linguist who could speak and write in thirteen different languages and dialects. One day, while looking over this area, he spotted this cross standing high above the ruins of the wall, like a lonely sentinel, with its silhouette thrusting high into the sky. The sight so moved him that he penned the powerful words of the beautiful grand old hymn:

“In the cross of Christ I glory, Towering o’er the wrecks of time, All the light of sacred story, Gathers ’round its head sublime. When the woes of life o’er-take me, Hopes deceive, and fears annoy, Never shall the cross forsake me; Lo! it glows with peace and joy. When the sun of bliss is beaming, Light and love upon my way, From the cross the radiance streaming, Adds more lustre to the day. Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure, By the cross are sanctified, Peace is there that knows no measure, Joys that through all time abide.”

The thought and truth of this old hymn is just as apt today. For thrusting out of the midst of the turmoil and violence of today’s suffering world, stands the Cross of Christ. There is no greater symbol. It symbolizes His ultimate triumph. The triumph of love over hate. The victory of forgiveness over judgment. The triumph of hope over despair and life over death! But more than anything else, it stands for the blood of Jesus Christ that cleanses us from all our sins. All around the world Christians gather in awe and reverence to consider the real meaning of the of their Savior upon that Cross and the eternal significance of the blood He shed there. Choirs and congregations lift their voices in many different languages and dialects and sing,

“When I survey the wondrous cross, On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.”

The Love Of A Father

“As the early morning sun peeped over the hill, silhouetting the drawbridge spanning the river in the valley below, a father and his young son made their way down the hillside. For months he had promised the lad he would take him to work with him one day.

As he watched the young boy scampering up and down with his little lunch box in hand, he could sense his overwhelming excitement. A smile played across his face as he thought of the planned highlight of their day; a picnic lunch on the river bank. Perhaps he could set a line and, if they were lucky, they might catch a good fish. The little fellow could proudly show his Mom as he gave her a glowing report of their day together.

His was no ordinary job. He operated a railroad drawbridge. He had the grave responsibility of raising and lowering the bridge on exact schedule; allowing the rail and river traffic to pass safely to and fro. His task allowed little or no margin of error.

He soon settled into his daily routine, glancing occasionally at his young son happily exploring the wonders of nature along the bank of the river below. It was nearly time for their lunch and the bridge had just been raised to allow a barge tow to pass up river. As he prepared to push the levers that would lower it again in time to allow a special express holiday train to pass over safely, he heard his son’s first terrified cry.

Glancing down quickly, his heart skipped a beat and it seemed his legs turned to jelly. “Oh no,” he thought. “I told him to stay away from there!” The little lad’s leg was caught in a large cluster of levers and gears in the midst of the moving machinery that raised and lowered the bridge. The cries of his son for help rose to a heartrending crescendo. From high up he watched his only beloved son struggle and thrash frantically about and his heart sank with the sudden realization that his little boy could not free himself.

What could he do now? No time to signal the train. No time to rush down and try to free his son. He must lower the bridge now or the train with its hundreds of passengers would plunge headlong into the cold river depths below. There could be no survivors. But if he hit the lever his son would be cruelly crushed. In a flash of precognition he visualized his son suffering a slow and agonizing death, all the time crying out for his help.

With a convulsive sob and a great cry of terrible agony, he leapt back to the control board and his hand fell heavily upon the lever. The train rushed safely across the bridge. As the holiday train sped on its merry way, the partying passengers never knew the agony of a father who sacrificed his only son that they might live!”

Did the above incident really occur? I don’t know. But one thing I do know. My Father did so much more for me and for all those who would trust in Him. He heard the agonizing cries and watched the cruel crushing of His only begotten Son in an awful death on the cross of Calvary.

Did not the prophet Isaiah say, “He shall see of the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied: by His knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many, for He shall bear their iniquities” (Isa. 53:11) Did not our Saviour cry out from the cross, “My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?” Why would a loving Father do this? That I might be free from sin’s eternal condemnation and be freely given the gift of everlasting life in Him. Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift!

(The above is from an illustration I saw many years ago.  I have rewritten it in my own words.)  - Pastor John White