This past Sunday, as the wind howled outside, I sat at my computer getting my notes from the day's sermon together in a readable form. No one will ever read them, of course, but I started this little habit back in 1987 so that I could go back and review my own notes. As I have gotten older it has become more needed. This old brain just doesn't process and store memories like it used to do. So, I was involved in this endeavor at 7:30 in the evening when the fire alarm went off.

    I live in an apartment complex for seniors. You have to be at least 55 to be here. Each apartment has fire alarms and when one goes off the ones in the hallways all go off. It is loud and very persistent. The stairwells are all fire resistant and we are all supposed to go there. At the bottom of each stairwell there is a door that leads outside. In case of a fire we are to go down and go outside. The same fire alarm system is also in place for tornados, in which case we are to wait it out in the stairwells. With the wind blasting away it could have been either situation. A downed power line could have started a fire or a tornado could have been lurking in the dusk. Either way, it was time to head to the stairwells.

    However.....in the two and a half years I have been here, that alarm has gone off maybe twenty times. Just gone off at random. At first the halls would fill as residents hurried to the stairwells. But now, TVs just get turned up a little louder. Meals continue to be prepared. If it is at night, maybe you wake up, maybe not. Sunday evening it very well could have been the real thing. But no one went to the hallway. No one was concerned, myself included. It was just an irritation.

    When I finished with my notes, I realized the alarm was still going off. It had been thirty minutes since it had started. A couple of fire trucks had pulled in. Since it was the weekend there was no staff to check it out, so the fire department had to come. They knew that our system rarely worked right, so they had been in no great hurry. In just a few minutes the alarm shut off. All was quiet.

    And in the silence, a thought found its way through the fog of my brain and demanded to be recognized. I have always marveled that the Jews had denied Jesus. All the prophecies of the coming Messiah had been fulfilled. Amazing miracles had been done. This man, Jesus, had been noteworthy for His compassion and love. He had not sinned. He had not sought to disrupt either the Roman Empire or the Jewish governance. He spoke the truth, certainly, but He did so without malice. He was a man of peace and that peace came from His very soul. Why had they denied Him?

    The thought that rose to the surface in my brain reminded me that the first Messianic prophecy had been 4,000 years before Jesus. From histories outside of the Bible we know that there had been at least three dozen different men who had come forward as Messiah. Each had gathered around them a small following and then their movements died, usually with the death of the fake Messiah. When Jesus came, He was very much like the previous contenders. Yes, He did miracles that seemed to defy nature, but the miracles could have been staged. Even raising from death the man from Nain could have been a clever set-up. The Jewish leaders did not want their positions threatened, but they also did not want the people fooled. This Jesus wasn't all that different from those who preceded Him, so silencing Him was important. Afterall, after 4,000 year the leadership had become convinced the Christ would be a warrior king, driving out the enemies of the Jews. Jesus was a carpenter. He simply didn't fit their idea of who Messiah would be.

    The raising of Lazarus began to cloud the issue a bit. By all accounts, he was really dead. Then Jesus Himself was killed. Absolutely. On a cross. With a spear run through Him. Put it a tomb. Sealed up, A guard put in place. Dead and gone with a guard to prevent tomb raiders. And then He was alive and there had to have been a dawning, a realization, that maybe this time it was real. No one else had ever done these things before. Yeah, maybe.....

    Looked at this way, we can excuse at least some of their certainty. They were wrong, of course, but they had precedent. 

    But what about us? From John 11 through the end of the book, we have the most electrifying narrative in history. But it has become so very common. So common, in fact, that we need to spice it up. Colored eggs, bright flowers, calling Resurrection Day easter, which is derived from the goddess Estre. The most powerful moment in all history is marked with rabbits and chicks to denote fertility of Spring. And beyond that, Jesus is coming again. But it has been 2,000 years. Many have come forward with dates, and every date has passed. 2,000 years? Is He really coming?

    Please, please, please do not let this moment go unnoticed. It has been said that the cross is the hinge upon which the door of all history swings. Cast away the silliness and embrace the majesty. The love. Let your heart break and then let Him put it back together.,

    Be blessed.