It’s raining.  I hear the drops on my sunroof in my work room.

It kind of fits the mood I’m in.  Very contemplative.  Of course, some that know me would ask “When are you ever NOT contemplative?” to which I would have to respond “Guilty as charged.”

Maybe it’s too early to be thinking about these things.  But then again, is there really a time when it is wrong to think on the death and resurrection of our Christ?

I watched “The Bible” series on the History Channel last night with my entire family, plus my girl’s boyfriend.  For us, even with the extra-biblical dialogue and the leaving out of key stories (such as Joseph) in the constraints of time, it was a fantastic experience.  The most we’ve ever discussed Scripture together as a family before in such a comprehensive, contextual way.

But what I personally took away from it last night, was how completely terrifying the Passover had to have been for the Israelites in Egypt.

We often discuss or remember the Passover during the Easter season, which will soon be upon us.  But I think we forget what was truly behind the observation of the last meal with Jesus and His disciples.  Now there is a lot of conjecture about whether the last mean with the disciples was a Seder (Passover) or not.  I’ll not get into that debate here.  But I will say that it seems clear to me, that our Lord had the Passover in mind when He ate and drank with the disciples that night.

Back to the actual Passover.  The show last night presented the Passover with such an urgency that I’d never considered before.  Panic even.  The Israelites couldn’t get the blood brushed across the door frames of their abodes fast enough.  The looks on their faces implied “Hurry!  Hurry!”.  The look in their eyes were looks of fear.  This was not a ritual.  This was not nothing.  This was imperative.  It was critical.  It was life or death.

Which one of us, if told how to prevent the death of one of our children (in this case, the first-born male child), would not do everything that we could–everything that was required of us in order to prevent the death of our children?  I know I would.  I know you would.

I think this is lost on us somehow, somewhere, in the midst of spring and flowers and Easter.  Yes, we must look to the Resurrection.  We must.  That is our hope, our salvation.  But our salvation comes at a price.  And the salvation of the children of the Israelites came at a price.  That price was the slaughter of the lambs.  Our price is the slaughter of the Lamb.

I’m not suggesting that we should dwell on the fear, the panic, the darkness of the night the Angel of Death passed over the homes of those Israelites that followed the instructions supplied to them, including the brushing of the lamb’s blood upon the doorposts.  But I am suggesting that we not forget it.  That we remember the price that was paid.  That we remember the fear of the Israelites and the tremendous trust they had to have in their God, in believing that this dreadful event would passover.

The Lamb of God shed His blood for us.  On the cross.  The angel of death did not passover, but His blood was spilt from his head and his hands and his feet and his side.  And that blood shed is the sacrifice for our sins.  God gave His Son as the sacrifice, as the Lamb for our salvation.

Easter is a very important time for my soul.  Because it was during Easter season that I first began to seek whether or not God was real.  Whether or not Christianity was truth.  And it is a later Easter Time that I was able to say, like Thomas in John 20, My Lord and My God! And I was baptized as a symbol of my belief that it is no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me.

So, as I sit here after a long day of work, listening to the rain and thinking about last night’s show, I am reminded that there are no words of gratitude that even come close to expressing thanks for the passover–the passover of the Israelites homes, which foreshadowed the passover of my own soul and my sins, leading me to salvation and restoration in the resurrection of my Jesus.