Signposts Along the Way: Signpost 6 – Part 4 of 5: He’s Alive!

23 Apr

Not having time to figure out what just transpired, I rushed out of the house to pick up Aunt Elsie. Trying to explain to her what happened was not easy. She knew a little of what was going on between dad and I, but my explanation of the recent telephone event only served to confuse her.

Proceeding directly to the church, we no longer needed to pickup mom. She was traveling to our mutual destination with her new church companion, dad. We arrived just before 7:00 pm, but the service was already packed. Upon entering the cathedral, we were greeted by two ushers who directed us to the only seats available. Seated directly in front of us – dad with his Stetson cowboy hat on his arm and mom by his side. Mom caught a glimpse of us as we shuffled in over the seated people. Her bright, wide smile said everything as she acknowledged us with a wink. Dad, totally oblivious to everyone around him, sat reserved and stoic staring directly at the heads in front of him.

As hard as it was, I restrained myself from any form of motion towards them. Aunt Elsie asked me why I didn’t say anything to my parents, especially dad. I just smiled and told her that I didn’t think I needed to. She looked at me quizzically, so I continued to explain that this wasn’t the time for a physical reconciliation, but for something much greater to happen. I didn’t know what that “thing” was, I just knew that dad and I were to share it concurrently. Honestly, I really didn’t know what I was saying to Aunt Elsie. I just felt different being in the presence of “My father” and “The Father” at the same time. As strange as it felt being in church, that was all about to change.

Aunt Elsie may not have understood the miracle from God happening right in front of us, but I couldn’t keep still. My eyes were glued to dad. How I managed to hear the missionary’s message, which echoed from his podium, was a miracle in itself. All I could do was focus on my estranged father who sat just inches in front of me.

Our minister, Father Monte, spoke with passion about his “Calling.” He told us that his sole purpose was to go forth and spread the “Good News” – that God so loved the world sent Jesus, His only beloved Son, to die in our place.

He explained to the congregation the message of Easter – that Jesus was crucified on the cross so that we could be free from sin. After his death, Jesus was taken from the cross and placed in a ceremonial burial tomb. Jesus’ tomb was forever sealed by rolling a huge stone in front of its opening. There was not one man who could move this giant boulder on his own. That day had come to be known as Holy Thursday.

At this point, all my attention had moved from dad to our eloquent speaker. Father Monte then revealed that after three days of being placed in the tomb, the stone was mysteriously moved and Jesus was gone. The tomb was empty! How was this possible? Where did Jesus go? I had so many questions. His story continued. After Jesus rose from his grave he ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of God. That third day, the day when Jesus Christ was miraculously resurrected, is what we now celebrate as Easter. Jesus Christ IS ALIVE, Father Monte exclaimed!

I never really understood the true story of Jesus, but after Father Monte finished his passionate discourse, it all finally made sense. There I was. This non-practicing, Catholic girl astonished at the fact that Jesus had died for us so that we would be saved. Not even realizing it at the time, my sudden ability to forgive my father (in my heart just days before) was only made possible because Jesus offered us that same forgiveness through His ultimate sacrifice.

I had heard the story of Jesus many times before in religion class and on TV, but it never profoundly touched me until that very night. That very night when my eyes were open for the first time. It seemed as though someone took a wide paint brush and colored my vision. Everything looked different. Everything was real, more alive. It felt like a different world to me, yet I couldn’t understand how that could be. I must have been moved spiritually from darkness to light, as there was not an earthly explanation.

Any attempt to define my state didn’t matter. It was real! He Is Alive! I inherently knew that was true. Something deeper in my heart took place. Something that my mind couldn’t even process. Yet it was stronger and more powerful than my mind. It was the truth.

I heard it again in my head, He Is Alive! This epiphany changed everything that I saw with my new eyes from that point forward. All I could do was wonder if my dad had that same revelation.

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