Two thousand years ago,
there was a man named Jesus of Nazareth. He’s a real person. Even the most skeptical historians today
acknowledge he really existed. We have the best evidence
we can have from the first century that he was a real person. He was reputed to be a wonder worker,
to be a prophet, to be a person with a large following, at the very least. So there’s this man, Jesus, and he died. And three days later, he rose again. He rose again for our sins. He died that our sins might be paid for. He rose again that we might
be right with God. And in these 2,000 years,
no one has adequately accounted for the appearance of Christ to more than
500 witnesses at the same time as an empty tomb. If there was a body of Jesus somewhere,
the Romans would’ve presented it. His disciples wouldn’t have died
for what they knew was a lie. But beyond all of that and
we could talk about the history of Jesus’ death and resurrection,
until you understand, and I understand, that we’re sinners. And I know that’s not
a popular word, but we’re sinners. We don’t do what we ought to do. The things we want to do, we don’t do. The things we don’t want to do,
we keep on doing. And we’re sinners that need more than a
second chance, sinners that need more than just a clean slate. We’re sinners that need forgiveness,
need a righteousness that’s not our own. And the only comfort that we have in life
and in death is that we belong to Jesus. It’s history, it’s fact. Yes, it’s theology. But, more than that, it’s life,
and it’s hope, and it’s comfort.