This is Holy Week. It is the week we remember that Christ shared His last supper with and said goodbye to His closest friends. He wept and prayed until He bled in the garden. He was betrayed by His friend and falsely accused by His enemies. He was humiliated, beaten and spit upon by those people He came to redeem. He felt the weight of every sin ever committed, past present and future, on His shoulders as He was brutally killed. He was separated from His Father.
Is there any mountain in my life, even a mountain sitting directly upon my chest, that can compare to that? Is there any pain I endure, be it emotional or physical, that Christ didn't endure for me?
But this is Holy Week. It is also the week we remember that the veil between the Father and His children was torn forever. Jesus' follower came forward and asked for His body and laid Him in a family tomb. Jesus defeated the only mountain no human could ever overcome. Women found an empty tomb and leftover burial cloths. Gentile guards witnessed the ultimate power of a sovereign God.
The mountain in my life holds no power over me. How do I move a mountain with a tiny bit of faith? I remember Matthew 17:20. I remember Colossians 1:15-23. I remember Him and His hope....His incredible, beautiful, glorious, faithful, eternal, gracious hope.
