In an ambulance?

Today in our Easter message, the preacher used a story as an illustration. In a nutshell: a little boy who had cancer befriended Beth Ann, who also had cancer. She died. He went to the funeral. He told his mother that when he died he didn't want to go to the cemetery in a hearse. He wanted to go in an ambulance, sirens wailing and lights flashing, so that Beth Ann would know he was on his way.

I remember the story. And it was a good illustration because Easter gives us that great gift, victory over death. Death is scary, particularly when you stand on one side and someone you love is stepping through or is already on the other side. My aunt told me a story too. Her story was real, a family in church, the mother both very clearly very sick and very clearly loved by her husband and her kids. If this truly was their last Easter together here, that husband and those kids are going to have a hard time, but her hard time is coming to an end. And she has no reason to fear that end. What a gift is Easter!

And honestly, I don't think you can understand that gift until you are separated by death from someone you dearly love. I understand and Easter is bittersweet because of it.

1 Peter 1
3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, 5who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. 6In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.