Sometimes the smell of a musty room or an old poem can send my mind floating back to Grandma Bessie’s house and the big bed I would share with her when I was allowed to stay overnight. There she would tell me Bible stories and share poetry or a verse that she loved. Recently I came across this poem by Annie Johnson Flint, and suddenly I was back on the big bed with Grandma. This poem reminds me that Easter may focus on the cross, but doesn’t stop at the cross. I know Grandma would agree.
Some of us stay at the cross,
Some of us wait at the tomb,
Quickened and raised with Christ
Yet lingering still in the gloom.
Some of us ‘bide at the Passover feast
With Pentecost all unknown:
The triumphs of grace in the heavenly place
That our Lord has made our own.
If Christ who had died had stopped at the cross,
His work had been incomplete.
If Christ who was buried had stayed in the tomb,
He had only known defeat,
But the way of the cross never stops at the cross,
And the way of the tomb leads on
To victorious grace in the heavenly place,
Where the risen Lord has gone.
-by Annie Johnson Flint
Where have you stopped—at the cross, the tomb, the feast, or at the place of grace?
In Him together, Susan Gaddis