His Traditions

Spring is in the air and my husband is dying to dye Easter eggs.

 Every year, the week before Easter, he starts asking me, "When are we going to dye the eggs?" 

Well, since there is only one day left before Easter, he and I are spending a portion of our date night, tonight, dying Easter eggs. 


So, we faithfully continue our family tradition as our children are out.



A very serious tradition, placed on my husband many years ago, has been the very difficult role of playing, our Lord, Jesus. Every year, since our son was very young, Rick has played this role.  First in our church's Passion Play for 10 plus years, and now for another church's event for children- every Saturday before Easter Sunday. 

The first day of Holy week he begins to grow his beard. 



He is a constant reminder to our family of what we are preparing to celebrate on Sunday.

Since today is Good Friday, we focus on the cross.  That cruel death, the slaughtering of the Savior for you and for me.

My daughter Madison, when she was small, loved to watch the Passion Play as her daddy played the role of Jesus.  But each year, when it came time for the part where the Roman soldiers would start to beat him, and the cross scene was approaching, she would tell our Children's Minister to take her out. ( I was always playing the piano with the orchestra, so I couldn't sit with her.) 

She would tell us that she could not watch them "hurt" her daddy.

I've never been able to watch the crucifixion scene in movies either.  The brutal, sadistic act of torture, murder- the killing of the innocent, sinless Son of God, the sight of His blood being spilled all over that altar called the cross, for me, forces me to always turn my head. 

My Lord.

I cannot bear to watch.

I put You there.

Your love kept You there.

Arms outstretched, broken and spilled out-  for me!

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!  Thank You, Lord!

"It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining.  And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.  Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit My spirit."  When He had said this, He breathed His last."
Luke 23:44-46 NIV 

My Pleasure,
Melanie