Easter would likely find us dressed in our Sunday finest, attending a church service (whether we were regular church attenders or not), and returning home to baskets of melting chocolate while we waited for the family’s traditional Easter dinner. It was the story of Jesus Christ, who died on the Cross in a grotesque manner known as a crucifixion on Good Friday, but then miraculously rose from the grave on Easter Sunday to show his power over sin, death, and hell. We heard tales of the happy white rabbit, dressed in human clothes, who would fill empty baskets with all sorts of our favorite chocolate candies… if we behaved ourselves throughout the year. The first was the story of the Easter Bunny. Like the rails of a train track, the duo never intersected but ran in parallel tandem through our memories. Lewis, Mere Christianityįor many of us, there were two stories in our childhood that captured the essence of Easter. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God or else a madman or something worse. He would either be a lunatic… or else he would be the Devil of Hell. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.
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