Years ago in Edinburgh, Scotland, with its tranquil setting, one of the many shop windows displayed art treasures in beautiful paintings attracting the eye of a passing gentleman. He was gazing intently at a painting of the “Crucifixion”, with the Saviour extended on the Cross, the multitude watching, Mary and some others standing by. It had been a long time since this man had allowed any thoughts like those suggested by the canvas to enter his mind, but the artist’s portrayal brought back the memory of long forgotten truths, and he was impressed and troubled.

Suddenly he became aware of the presence at his side of a little ragged street child who was also looking intently at the painting with its wondrous story of Calvary. “That’s Jesus, sir, on the cross. They nailed Him there with that crown of thorns on His head, and killed Him, sir. He was a good man. He died for us, and that’s His mother standing there, sir, looking at what they did to Him.” The gentleman felt a lump rise in his throat as the boy continued, “and He died, sir, for our sins and they buried Him there yonder, sir.” It was too real, and the man turned away to continue his walk in Princess Street. He felt a tugging at his coat tails. Turning around he saw the boy who had been telling the story standing looking into his face. The boy blurted out breathlessly, “I forgot to tell you, sir. I forgot to tell you He rose again. He is alive!” So it is my beloved friend that Jesus died and rose again. This is the Easter message.