John 15:13: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends”.

             Memorial Day is a very special day for remembering those who have given their lives to defend ours.  As a boy, I remember parades with marching soldiers, led by veterans carrying the flag.  I remember seeing tears come to the eyes of my father and other grown men who had served in World Wars I & II.  My father had served as a machine-gunner during the first World War in France.  As with most combat veterans, he didn't talk about it much, but he kept a newspaper describing how a young lieutenant had fallen on a hand grenade that landed in a trench, in order to save his men.  All Dad said was that it was his lieutenant!  I still have that paper.

             It seems people were more conscious in those days of the sacrifices paid for our freedom.  There were always people visiting the cemeteries, decorating the graves of fallen soldiers.  People knew by the single star flag in the window of a home that a family member was serving or had lost their life in the war.  In many cases, there was more than one such flag.  The fallen weren't just numbers and statistics—they were brothers, fathers, and neighbors, all loved and mourned.  I remember a young man named Jerry, who graduated from high school just as I became a freshman.  He was the quarterback of our football team, president of the student council, an excellent trumpet player, and a very popular young man.  He enlisted in the Marines right out of high school.  Within a year, we heard that he had been killed by machine-gun fire in Korea.  These experiences and memories make it personal.

             I served four years in the United States Air Force, but refuse to stand up on Memorial Day to be “recognized for my service.”  I don't believe I'm alone.  I know the argument—that everyone who has served was willing to give their lives, and I get it.  However, for me, Memorial Day is to remember those who did give their lives.  Next to them are all those who were wounded, and came home with broken bodies or broken spirits.  No one can come close to imagining the experiences of so many young men, even before they have reached the age of twenty-one.  At that age, you are strong, fast, fit, and feel indestructible.  You're pretty sure you have already learned everything a person needs to know. But then, you are suddenly in the middle of a war and being shot at by men you've never seen or known.  You form a comradery with the other men around you, joking and getting to know about each other—families, backgrounds, experiences. Then, there is an explosion, and these guys are killed, or mutilated right in front of you. Or, you might be the one who wakes up in a muddy, bloody field or a military hospital bed.  The shock is devastating and doesn't fade—an image you'll have in your mind for the rest of your life.  These are the men we should remember with gratitude, honor, and respect.

             For me, the Flag has always represented these men and their sacrifices.  In the military, you learn to equate the flag with freedom, home, history, duty, and honor.  I'd like to explain some of the symbolism of the Flag.

             There are thirteen stripes, representing the first thirteen colonies that formed our Great “Nation Under God” 241 years ago.  The Red represents the blood shed for our freedoms; the White represents the purity of the one we follow—“In God We Trust!”   There are fifty stars (one for every state) on a background of Blue representing our eternal destiny, Heaven—if we are a people “under God” and trusting in Him).

             Therefore, we cannot have a “Memorial Day” without honoring the greatest sacrifice of all, God's only Son, Jesus Christ, sacrificed for our sins on Calvary's tree.  He is our Creator, our Lord and Savior.

             Isaiah 53:4-5: “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

             John 19:16-18: “Then delivered he him therefore unto them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led him away. And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha: Where they crucified him, and two other with him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst.”

             There is a line of a gospel song that goes; “He gave His life-blood for even me!” It is through Him that we can have peace, joy, and the “hope that is within us” that we will spend eternity with Him, in the place He has prepared for us.

             In the last few decades, we have allowed God to be taken out of our schools, our public square, and even close to public utterance of His Name.  He warned us in:

             Mark 8:38   “Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels”.

             As a nation, we have sinned by our apathy, “politically correct” tolerance, and our “turning away from God”!  As a result, we see our nation more divided, more affected by crime and violence, more immoral, more disrespectful, more dishonest, and more decadent than we can remember.  In our schools, our children are being taught things that wouldn't have even been considered when we were children.  There is only one answer:

             2 Chronicles 7:14: “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land”.

             I have seen indications of the Body of Christ in the United States, starting to repent and seek God's forgiveness.  I believe we have been given a “window of opportunity” to turn back to Him, to proclaim Him, to glorify Him, and to reach as many lost souls as possible.  I believe this should be a Memorial Day during which we should have a great deal to remember, and a great deal to resolve.

             “In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea,

            With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;

            As He died to make men holy let us die to make men free;

            His truth is marching on!

            Glory, glory, hallelujah, glory, glory, hallelujah.

            Glory, glory, hallelujah, His truth is marching on”!

What a morning that must have been! I’m sure at first it didn’t seem like it to the women on their way to the tomb. They were probably unaware of the birds singing, or the sparkling dew on the grass and the flowers. They didn’t see how fresh and alive nature was that beautiful morning. The sky must have been painted brilliantly as the first rays of the sun started to peek over the horizon.

They hurried along the path, carrying fresh linen, spices and ointment. Their eyes were red and swollen from crying, their hearts were broken, and their bodies exhausted from lack of sleep. They had seen Jesus, their Master, beaten and bloodied, mocked and spat upon, and then nailed to a cross to suffer and die as though He were a terrible criminal. But why? He had only shown love and compassion to everyone. They had seen Him heal people, defend the condemned, feed the hungry and change the lives of all who followed Him. Now He was dead, and they hadn’t even been able to prepare His body for burial. They had been worried about where He would be buried since He had no material wealth, property or burial site. It was ironic that a wealthy Pharisee, Joseph of Arimathea, had donated a new burial tomb for His body to be placed. By the time they had taken His body from the cross and carried it to the tomb, it was too close to the Sabbath to clean or anoint His body with oil and spices. Now, the Sabbath was over and they were determined to finish their service of great love and respect.

The women were aware they had other issues to overcome. They knew the entrance to the tomb was covered by a large, heavy, circular stone. They knew there were Roman guards stationed at the entrance of the tomb. Would they be allowed to enter the tomb? How would they be able to roll the stone from the entrance? Would the guards be friendly and helpful, or rude and abusive? They were afraid, and worried, but they must try. They loved the Master and couldn’t accept His body not being properly prepared.

A great earthquake occurred and a bright, shining angel descended from the sky and rolled away the stone from the opening of the tomb. The women had probably felt the earth moving beneath their feet. They were shaking with fear but so were the Roman soldiers who appeared to have fainted. Then the angel spoke to the women, “Do not be afraid for I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, He is risen! Come and see the place where the Lord lay.” He then told them to go tell the disciples.

They were still shaking and crying, but now these were tears of joy. Could it be? Could it really be? They turned to run back down the path they had come, when suddenly Jesus was there. He was smiling and He looked wonderful. He said, “Joy to You.” They ran to Him and fell at His feet, worshiping Him. Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid, go tell my brothers to go to Galilee. I will see them there.”

Can you imagine when they reached the disciples and told them, “I’ve just seen Jesus, I know He’s Alive!” Their faces must have been radiant, smiling and crying all at the same time. What a wonderful morning!

I can relate to the experience of the women because there was one wonderful morning that I saw Jesus. There wasn’t an earthquake or an angel rolling away a stone, but I did see Him. I saw that He is really who He said He is—The Son of God—and He loved me so much He sacrificed His life for me. I saw how unworthy I was and how wonderful He is. Oh, I know He’s alive because I talk with Him every day. Before that day, I existed, but everything was a struggle. I was burdened with guilt and the consequences of the choices I had made. That morning— when I saw Him for who He is—was my Resurrection Morning. If you haven’t seen Jesus, let this be your Resurrection Morning!