Death is the Gate of Life

On this Easter morning, pay a visit to His grave...because it is a quiet spot...

 

Let me lead by the hand of meditation, my brother: let me take thee by the arm of thy fancy, and let me again say to thee, "Come, see the place where the Lord lay." 

 

Oh! I have longed for rest, for I have heard this world's rumors in my ears so long that I have begged for "a lodge in some vast wilderness, some boundless contiguity of shade," where I might hide myself forever. I am sick of this tiring and trying life; my frame is weary, my soul is made to repose herself awhile. I would I could lay myself down a little by the edge of some pebbly brook, with no companion save the fair flowers or the nodding willows. I would I could recline in the stillness, where the air brings balm to the tormented brain, where there is no murmur save the hum of the summer bee, no whisper, save that of the zephyrs, and no song except the caroling of the Lark. I wish I could be at ease for a moment. I have become a man of the world; my brain is racked, my soul is tired. Oh! Wouldst thou be quiet, Christian? Merchant, wouldst thou rest from thou toils? Wouldst thou be calm for once? Then come hither. [Christ's tomb] is a pleasant garden, far from the hum of Jerusalem; the noise and din of business will not reach thee there: "Come and see the place where the Lord lay." It is a sweet resting spot, a withdrawing room for thy soul; where thou mayest brush from thy garments the dust of earth and muse awhile in peace...

 

Jesus rose, and as the Lord our savior rose, so must all his followers rise. Die I must--the body must be a carnival of worms; it must be eaten by those tiny cannibals, peradventure it shall be scattered from one portion of the earth to another...[but] like the bones lying in the valley of vision, though separated from one another, the moment God shall speak, the bone will creep to its bone; then the flesh will come upon it; the four winds of heaven shall blow, and the breath shall return. So let me die, let beasts devour me, let fire turn this body into gas and vapor, all its particles shall yet again be restored...Christs same body rose; so shall mine. O, my soul, dost thou now dread to die? Thou wilt lose thy partner body a little while, but thou will be married again in heaven...

 

The grave--what is it? It is the bath in which the Christian puts his clothes of the body to have them washed and cleansed. Death--what is it? It is the waiting-room where we robe ourselves for immortality...Death is the gate of life. 

 

Come, view the place then, with all hallowed meditation, where the Lord lay.

-CH Spurgeon