"Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." From that time on, this disciple took her into his home." John 19:25-27 NIV

As I anticipate Easter, which represents Resurrection Morning for those of us whose lives have been changed by our acknowledgement of the death and resurrection of Christ, I'd like to share the following meditation by John Cumming, based on the above verses in the book of John.

"Woman, behold your son!"...."Behold your mother!"

Amidst the absorbing scenes of the cross, Jesus recollects that Mary, his mother, would now be desolate. He thinks of finding for her an earthly home whilst he is paying, by his blood, the awful price of her everlasting home. He thinks of a thing so minute that an ordinary sufferer would never have had time to recollect it. And whilst engaged in a tragedy so grand that all eternity will commemorate it, he turns aside for one moment to thin of an incident so minute that one wonders that he thought it worth his while to take notice of it at all.

And yet, how like God was it, who descends in nature to polish the wing of a beetle, or to powder the wing of a butterfly, or to shape the sting of a bee, with a precision, a beauty, an exquisite care, as great as if he had nothing else to do in the world but to accomplish these tiny and beautiful processes....God, speaking from the ends of the earth shows that minute things and magnificent things are equally his care; God, speaking from the cross, shows that the purchase of an eternal home for a lost race, and the providing of a temporary home for a suffering mother, were equally within the reach of his regards, equally occupying his heart, and engaging his sympathy.

In Christ Alone

In Christ alone my hope is found, he is my light, my strength, my song;

This cornerstone, this solid ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm.

What heights of love, what depths of peace, when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!

My comforter, my all in all, here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! who took on flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe!

This gift of love and righteousness, scorned by the ones he came to save.

Till on that cross as Jesus dies, the wrath of God was satisfied;

For every sin on him was laid; here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground his body lay, light of the world by darkness slain;

Then bursting forth in glorious day up from the grave he rose again!

And as he stands in victory, sin's curse has lost its grip on me,

For I am his and he is mine -- bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me;

From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny.

No power of hell, no human plan, can ever pluck me from his hand;

Till he returns or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand!

(Words: S. Townsend)