On Sacrifice, Suffering and Scouring

Not long ago, I found a letter I had written to my son Ben, who was serving a full-time mission in Ecuador.

I'm including some of it below.

April 23, 2017 
Yesterday morning at 8:00, our family, and a few other families, met at the church – to clean the building. None of us are church administrators or professional custodians. We were just doing what we were asked to do.

What kind of church expects its members to do that? To come to clean the building, bringing their children along with them, and perform this menial labor without any monetary compensation or reward?

The same church that expects its members to serve in callings, to pay one-tenth plus of their income, to set aside a couple of years or so to spread the gospel to all the world, to serve those in need regularly, and to attend three hours of meetings on Sunday and often a few more.

Today in Relief Society the lesson was from Elder Ballard's October 2016 conference talk, “To Whom Should We Go?” You might remember it; it's about how people get lost and leave the church. Here's a quote we discussed:

"Some disciples struggle to understand a specific Church policy or teaching. Others find concerns in our history or in the imperfections of some members and leaders, past and present. Still others fi

nd it difficult to live a religion that requires so much. Finally, some have become “weary in well-doing.”

The woman who was teaching the lesson joined the church when she was a teenager. She told us that in her previous church, you went to a meeting on Sunday and then you went home. And that was it.

I've been thinking about that. I think that kind of participation in a church can produce good people. But I'm not sure it can produce Saints, which is what we are shooting for. "A religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary to lead unto life and salvation." 

I was going to include just that brief line of that quote from Joseph Smith, but I read the whole thing – for the first time, I think – and I'm going to use it all. I know you don't have all day to read e-mails, but it's not that long.

“Let us here observe, that a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation; for, from the first existence of man, the faith necessary unto the enjoyment of life and salvation never could be obtained without the sacrifice of all earthly things. It was through this sacrifice, and this only, that God has ordained that men should enjoy eternal life; and it is through the medium of the sacrifice of all earthly things that men do actually know that they are doing the things that are well pleasing in the sight of God. When a man has offered in sacrifice all that he has for the truth's sake, not even withholding his life, and believing before God that he has been called to make this sacrifice because he seeks to do his will, he does know, most assuredly, that God does and will accept his sacrifice and offering, and that he has not, nor will not seek his face in vain. Under these circumstances, then, he can obtain the faith necessary for him to lay hold on eternal life.” (Joseph Smith, Lectures on Faith 6:7)

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The incomprehensible suffering of Jesus Christ ended sacrifice by the shedding of blood, but it did not end the importance of sacrifice in the gospel plan. Our Savior requires us to continue to offer sacrifices, but the sacrifices He now commands are that we “offer for a sacrifice unto [Him] a broken heart and a contrite spirit” He also commands each of us to love and serve one another—in effect, to offer a small imitation of His own sacrifice by making sacrifices of our own time and selfish priorities.

Just as the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ is at the center of the plan of salvation, we followers of Christ must make our own sacrifices to prepare for the destiny that plan provides for us. 

We are frequently asked, “How do you persuade your young people and your older members to leave their schooling or their retirement to sacrifice in this way?” I have heard many give this explanation: “Knowing what my Savior did for me—His grace in suffering for my sins and in overcoming death so I can live again—I feel privileged to make the small sacrifice I am asked to make in His service. I want to share the understanding He has given me.”  

Elder Dallin H. Oaks, April 2002 GC. 

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A young woman in our ward, as she spoke in Sacrament Meeting before leaving on her mission, told the congregation with emotion in her voice that she had struggled with her own weakness in making the decision.

Then she said, “I still don't know all the Savior's strength. But I know He has enough to give me the strength I need.” 

My own son, Joseph, who is nearing the end of his service as a missionary, had some struggles at first. This letter shows his honesty, his faith, and his subtle humor:

Missionary work is hard, not gonna lie. My companion keeps trying to make me do things I don't know how to do, really advanced missionary stuff like talking. At least if I didn't speak the language well I'd have an excuse not to do things.

We still haven't even met with most of our investigators, they're pretty hard to contact and it seems like some of them are avoiding us even. It can be really frustrating.

Sorry if it seems like I'm complaining. It's really not that bad. I have a lot to be grateful for. I'm actually not that stressed or homesick (which means it just hasn't hit me yet, probably) and my trainer says he was a lot worse his first couple weeks. I feel like I've been strengthened by God for sure. 

 

“If you have been to the temple for yourselves and if you live within relatively close proximity to a temple, your sacrifice could be setting aside the time in your busy lives to visit the temple regularly,” he said. (President Thomas S. Monson, April 2011 General Conference

A story from my own life:
It was hard for me to find time to attend the temple while my children were young, but I managed to do it occasionally. Unfortunately, I sometimes felt like I needed to hurry through the session to get home and attend to my duties there.

On one such day, I sat in the chapel waiting for the session to begin. There were only a few people in the room, and I wondered if they could even do a session with so few. But just as it was time to move to the ordinance room, a man came in to join us. He seemed very old, and very frail. His temple clothes were yellow from age.

I am not proud about the feelings I had when I saw him. I became judgmental and annoyed, thinking that he might  slow the session down. I knew I was wrong to feel that way, and I tried to push the critical thoughts aside.

Toward the end of session, I found myself standing next to the frail old man, and I reached out to touch his hand. In that instant, my feelings toward him shifted dramatically. I knew that he was a much-loved son of God, a valiant soldier in the kingdom. I felt the Lord's love for him, and I was humbled by the privilege of standing with him in this sacred place. I will never forget those feelings.

It was only a few weeks later that I read a story about that man in the local newspaper. I learned that he had died, leaving this imperfect world and his worn-out mortal body behind. The article told the story of his long life of service, including in its account that in his later years, he had attended the Logan temple every day, from the time it opened until it closed. He had continued in that service almost until the last day of his life. 

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. (Galatians 6:9 )

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Now, years later, it is again difficult for me to attend the temple. My poor vision and hearing, combined with my weakness and almost ever-present fatigue, make every visit to that sacred place a challenge.

One day, after a particularly troublesome session, I sunk into what can best be described as "whiny prayer," asking my Father in Heaven why He couldn't make this easier for me.

The answer came while I was on my way home, and it came very clearly: "Do you think you're the only person it's hard for? Is there no one worse off than you?"

But in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses . . . 

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I found this Crock Pot at a thrift some years ago, and I took it to the checkout table with some concern.


I pointed out a big spot that was covered with black crusted burnt gunk.

"Oh, you can get that off. That's a great pot. You can scrub that burnt stain right out."

She was so confident that I could get it clean that I bought it and took it home for a good scrub. And the thrift store cashier was right – it was a great Crock Pot, and I did get the burned greasy gunk off it. 


Since then, I have found many items priced ridiculously low –because they were dirty and stained.
  
This solid surface cutting board appeared to be deeply stained, but the stains came out more easily than I expected. 

This cookie pan cost a dollar – but now that it's clean I think it's worth more.

Last Sunday, I sat next to a very lovely woman in Relief Society, We talked for a moment, and when the meeting ended I told her I liked her shoes, and I wondered how she kept them so white.

She told me that she'd bought the shoes at a thrift store, and they were really grungy. She had soaked them in a cleaning solution, and then rubbed them clean.



I was delighted by her story and asked her if I could take a picture of her shoes.

Just last month I bought this pot for two dollars. It's a nice pot, with a non-stick surface and a good lid.

But the bottom of the pot was burned black.

I knew this job would require a scouring pad.  

I found one under the kitchen sink and started scouring. Somewhere in the process, I remembered something a friend had said to me the day before: "Do you know what a scourge is?"

The similarity of the words scour and scourge suddenly struck me, and I left the pot and ran to the computer to see what I could learn about the words.

(This is the pot I was working on.
 You can see that I never quite finished scouring the bottom clean.)

I learned that the words scour and scourge are sometimes used interchangeably, and that that the word scour comes from the Middle English word scǒuren – “to polish, scour; to clean; to beat or whip.”

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And so Pilate, willing to content the people, released Barabbas unto them, and delivered Jesus, when he had scourged him, to be crucified. 

And they clothed him with purple, and plaited a crown of thorns, and put it about his head, And began to salute him, Hail, King of the Jews!

 And they smote him on the head with a reed, and did spit upon him, and bowing their knees worshipped him.

And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him, and put his own clothes on him, and led him out to crucify him.

Crucifixion was an agonizing, torturous death, but Jesus endured a torture that was nearly as, or perhaps equally, excruciating before he ever got to the cross. This was the pain he suffered when he was scourged.


Scourging was possibly the worst kind of flogging administered by ancient courts. Scourging was not normally a form of execution, but it certainly was brutal enough to be fatal in many cases. A person certainly could be beaten to death by the scourge if that was desired. Its purpose was not only to cause great pain, but to humiliate as well. It was belittling, debasing, and demeaning. 

The scourge was not designed merely to bruise or leave welts on the victim. It was a whip with several thongs or strands, each perhaps as much as three feet long, and the strands were weighted with lead balls or pieces of bone. This instrument was designed to lacerate. The weighted thongs struck the skin so violently that it broke open.

 

The victim of a scourging was bound to a post or frame, stripped of his clothing, and beaten with the flagellum from the shoulders to the loins. The beating left the victim bloody and weak, in unimaginable pain, and near the point of death.

It is no doubt that weakness from his scourging was largely the reason Jesus was unable to carry his cross all the way to Golgotha (Matt. 27:32 ).¹

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“We do not know, we cannot tell, no mortal mind can conceive the full import of what Christ did in Gethsemane.We know He sweat great drops of blood from every pore as He drained the dregs of that bitter cup His Father had given Him.

“We know He suffered, both body and spirit, more than it is possible for man to suffer, except it be unto death …

“We know that He lay prostrate upon the ground as the pains and agonies of an infinite burden caused Him to tremble and would that He might not drink the bitter cup” (Elder Bruce R. McConkie, “The Purifying Power of Gethsemane,” Ensign, Apr. 2011, 57).

     He is despised and rejected of men;

 A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:

 And we hid as it were our faces from him; 

He was despised, and we esteemed him not.

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The second-hand items I have shown here have been rejected, perhaps, because they were considered unclean – stained and uncleanable – and therefore of little or no worth.

But I cleaned them. I scoured and soaked the stains out. 

Of course, I can't remove every stain. I don't have that ability. I don't have that power.

But I know someone who does.

He, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior has the power.The Power to Heal us, The Power to Comfort us, The Power to cleanse us, and The Power to make us whole .

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.  

(Isaiah 53:3 - 5) 

On this day we celebrate our Savior's life: His sacrifices; His suffering; His miraculous healings – And His Great Triumph over Death and Sin.

And that is good news, indeed.

Hallelujah Amen!

1. Much of the information about the scourging and suffering of Christ is from "The Scourging of Jesus" by David McClister.

I've Done the Work

Only once, in the fourteen years I have been dealing with cancer and its associated ills, have I wished and prayed to die. I had been very sick for months, and none of the doctors I had seen could tell me what was wrong with me.¹

One day, a friend stopped by to check on me and found me nearly debilitated and in great pain. She felt that I should see a neurologist immediately, and somehow managed to get me to her car.

The ride was excruciating. I curled up in a ball in the back seat of the car in agony. Every bump on the road, every beam of light through the windows brought on a fresh wave of pain and nausea.  I felt that anything would be better than what I was experiencing, and I cried out in my heart to God, “Please take me, Father, please let me leave this body, please, please, let me come home!”

Obviously, my prayer was not answered. That was not the Lord's plan for me. And now I'm very glad that I did not get the rather selfish desire of my heart.

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This week, we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It is a wondrous event to honor and a beautiful thing to ponder.

It is not unusual at this time of year to read or hear a statement like this: “Christ was half-mortal and half-immortal. He didn't have to die. He willingly gave His life for us.” And of course, that's true.

But I believe that when we think this way, we might miss an important point: Christ, because of the immortality He inherited from His Father, could have chosen to die at any point along the tortuous path from Gethsemane to Calgary – or any time before. It is the fact that He chose to live as long as He did that makes for a more meaningful celebration. I suspect that dying was the easiest thing he ever did – and the option dangled alluringly before Him through some very rough territory. His suffering in the Garden was profoundly and infinitely agonizing – so much so that it astounded Him, and made Him recoil. But he held on.

And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down, and prayed,
Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22:41 – 44)

But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I; Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink— Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men. (D&C 19:17 - 19)

Weakened and fatigued after His suffering there, the soldiers added to His agony:

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the common hall, and gathered unto him the whole band of soldiers.
And they stripped him, and put on him a scarlet robe.
And when they had platted a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand: and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews! And they spit upon him, and took the reed, and smote him on the head.
(Matthew 27:27 - 30)

And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; wherefore they scourge him, and he suffereth it; and they smite him, and he suffereth it.  Yea, they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men. (1 Nephi 19:9)

And they that passed by railed on him, wagging their heads, and saying, Ah, thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in three days, Save thyself, and come down from the cross. Likewise also the chief priests mocking said among themselves with the scribes, He saved others; himself he cannot save. (Mark 15:29 - 31)

Certainly He could have saved Himself. But He did not. He knew His mission on this earth was not yet complete.

After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I thirst. Now there was set a vessel full of vinegar: and they filled a sponge with vinegar, and put it upon hyssop, and put it to his mouth. When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost. (John 19:28 – 30)

“It is Finished.”

“I did the work thou gavest me. Receive my Spirit unto Thee.” ²

As we appropriately celebrate his glorious resurrection, may we also remember the horrors of His final hours, and that it was His love for His Heavenly Father, and for all of us, that kept Him on the job until He knew He was finished.

Although my mortal pain and burdens cannot be compared to His, I only hope that I can have a small portion of His faith and courage – to hold on until I can humbly say, "I’ve done the work thou gavest me; Receive my spirit unto thee.”

This is my message of hope, for Easter and for every other day.

¹ Several months later I learned the cause of these symptoms: my cancer had metastasized and formed a tumor in my brain. 

² "Behold the Great Redeemer Die," Hymns of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 191. Text: Eliza R. Snow, Music: George Careless. See also the beautiful hymn "Reverently and Meekly Now," Hymns, 185

To read other posts about Easter, click here or here.

 This video, from the LDS.org website, presents a moving depiction of the Savior's suffering.

Knocking the House About

I have been sick this week.

Some who know me might ask, “But, Marnie, aren't you always sick?”

Well, yes, technically. But this week I have added, to my usual serving plate of sickness, a very icky cold.

“A cold! A cold! What are you whining about? Everybody gets colds sometimes!”

It's true. I know that. But this little illness took me by surprise, and happened to come at an especially inconvenient time, as this week we are doing some remodeling of our house.

Our house was built in 1987, so it's not really an old house. But it certainly is not a new house. It's not cute, like new houses and young children usually are, and it's not sweet and charming and full of memories, like senior citizens often are. It's middle-aged, and in need if some improvements and repairs.

It's a lot like me that way.

And home improvements, like sudden illness, always seem to take more time and be more trouble than you expected them to be.

(Disclaimer: These are not actual pictures of our actual home messes. These are other people's messes. I don't want ours to go on record).

  This combination of events has me thinking about something C.S. Lewis wrote in his book Mere Christianity:

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to?”

(I have wondered that myself). Lewis continues:

“The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself."

I am not yet as Job (see D&C 121:10). He went through some terrible afflictions, so difficult that he cried “Why died I not from the womb? why did I not give up the ghost when I came out of the belly?

(Job 3:11)

He was in serious misery. But still, he knows his physical oppression will not last forever. He declares his testimony of this truth:

For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me. 

(Job 19:25 – 27)

I won't live in this imperfect, aging house forever. And I won't live in this imperfect, aging body forever. Like Job, I know that I will be resurrected and have a perfected body, freed from flaws and aging. 

I know this because I know that Jesus Christ was resurrected so that all people can live again. He conquered death for all:

As one of His latter-day witnesses, I testify that He lives today. He is a resurrected Being. He is our Savior, our Lord, the very Son of God. I testify that He will come again as our glorified, resurrected Lord. That day is not far distant. To all who accept Him as Savior and Lord, His literal resurrection means that life does not end at death, for He promised: “Because I live, ye shall live also.” (John 14:19.) Ezra Taft Benson, April 1992

He Lives.

And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him,

          this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: 

 That he lives!

            For we saw him,

    Even on the right hand of God;

             and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father—

That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God.

           (D&C 76:22 – 24)

He lives, and grants me daily breath –

He lives, and I shall conquer death!

He lives, and while He lives I'll sing –

He lives, my prophet, priest, and King.

                        Happy Easter. 

Seeing Anyone New Lately?

One of the souvenirs I picked up on my journey through Cancerland (motto: “Maybe Not Quite the Happiest Place on Earth”) was a significant loss of vision. I visited several eye specialists, but none could tell me why my eyesight was so poor and why it seemed to be getting steadily worse. They could not prescribe glasses strong enough to help me see.

Finally, I was referred to an eye doctor who had more specialized equipment and knowledge about my type of vision loss. He took pictures of the inside of my eye and saw that my eye tissue was very swollen. This had apparently been caused by the whole-head radiation I had received three years earlier.

So I started getting monthly steroid shots to my eye,* and this reduced the swelling a little. But my vision was still bad – I couldn’t read normal-sized text, even with the strongest reading glasses I could buy at my reading-glasses-store-of-choice,** and I was unable to drive, which often made things complicated for my kids and put a lot of pressure on my husband.

It was time to consider cataract surgery. I was a little apprehensive about it at first. But I'd heard that the technology for cataract surgery had made amazing advances and that the procedure was safe, effective, and relatively painless. I knew I had an experienced and competent doctor. Also, by at this point, I was somewhat accustomed to having sharp objects skewering my eye.

So last month, I had cataract surgery on my left eye. It went well. I was in the hospital for only a few hours, and felt no real pain. The most inconvenient part of the procedure was the recovery at home. My left eye was bandaged, and my right eye is badly scarred, so I was essentially blind. The doctor told me that for 24 hours after the surgery, I would need a responsible adult with me all the time, which raised a problem because frankly, I don’t know any responsible adults (with the possible exception of my husband, and he had to go to work.)***

Because my right inner ear was severely damaged by surgery five years ago, my sense of balance is dependent on my eyesight. So my activity was very limited – I couldn’t walk, or read, or do crosswords, or watch TV, or use the computer. I was mostly stuck in bed, and although I was comfortable, I was extremely bored. I am a very easily bored person, and this type of imposed boredom is particularly excruciating for me. I had thought it was terrible to be confined to my sickbed during my chemotherapy treatments, but at least I had constant nausea and occasional vomiting to distract me from the tedium.

At last I was able to remove the bandage. Everything was blurry at first, which was normal, I learned, but my eyesight improved dramatically over the next week. The first two things I discovered
with my new vision were:

    - Whoa, I really look bad. I mean really bad. Much worse than I thought.

    - My house is very dirty. It wasn’t the clutter that surprised me – I could see well enough before the surgery to recognize a problem if there were, say, a basketball in the bathroom sink or a full-grown hedgehog on my kitchen counter. But the dust and the grime and the cobwebs had been invisible to me. If it's true that cleanliness is next to Godliness, we've been living in sin.

But then I started to notice other things I had forgotten: How beautiful my children are – what a startling shade of blue my husband’s eyes are – the beauty of the trees and the grass and the sky. And now I can read, an activity that I deeply missed.

Before the cataract surgery, and during the recovery, I often found myself wishing that someone would just spit in the dirt and put the mud on my eyes to cure my poor vision, the way Christ did for the man born blind, as told in the ninth chapter of the Gospel of John:


And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth. Jesus [said], I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.

When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay, and said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing.

Then again called they [the Pharisees] the man that was blind, and said unto him, Give God the praise: we know that this man is a sinner. He answered and said, Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.

It seemed to me, at first glance, that this man received his vision the easy way – no looking for a spot in the hospital parking lot, no health questionnaires, no insurance co-pay. Why don’t things like that happen anymore?

But I’ve begun to realize now the immaturity of that way of thinking. What am I asking for, anyway, when I say I want a divine healing? Just because I didn't literally see God's hand in this doesn't mean it wasn't there. Looking back, I can clearly see that I did receive divine help – I was led to the right doctor, my surgery was successful, and I have had a smooth recovery.

On this day, when we gather to honor the life and marvel at the death and resurrection of Him who made lame men walk and blind men see, I add my testimony that He lives, that He loves us, that He heals our bodies, and our souls, still today. It is through His miraculous resurrection that my full vision will be restored to me someday, as will my lost hearing, teeth, hair, facial movement: indeed, a new body; a new life.

"I say unto thee, my son, that the plan of restoration is requisite with the justice of God; for it is requisite that all things should be restored to their proper order. Behold, it is requisite and just, according to the power and resurrection of Christ, that the soul of man should be restored to its body, and that every part of the body should be restored to itself." (Book of Mormon, Alma 41:2) 

Happy Easter.


*That’s right, actual shots to my actual eye. You can probably remember saying, when you were a child, “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” But you never thought anyone would ever really do it.  
**Dollar Tree
***We settled on my 18-year-old son, Danny, who had the day off from school, and he proved to be passably responsible. 

Resurrection Story Cookies

We have made these cookies the night before Easter Sunday for quite a few years. It's a good way to help your children remember the true meaning of Easter. 

You need to preheat the oven to 300 degrees (this is important--don't wait until you are half done with the recipe!)

1 cup whole pecans

1 tsp. vinegar

3 egg whites

A pinch salt

1 cup sugar

A zipper baggie

A wooden spoon

Tape

Bible

Place pecans in zipper baggie and let children beat them with the wooden spoon to break into small pieces. Explain that after Jesus was arrested, He was beaten by the Roman soldiers.

Read John 19:1-3.

Let each child smell the vinegar. Put 1 tsp. vinegar into mixing bowl. Explain that when Jesus was thirsty on the cross, He was given vinegar to drink .Read John 19:28-30.

Add egg whites to vinegar. Eggs represent life. Explain that Jesus gave His life to give us life.

Read John 10:10-11.

Sprinkle a little salt into each child's hand. Let them taste it and brush the rest into the bowl. Explain that this represents the salty tears shed by Jesus' followers, and the bitterness of our own sin. Read Luke 23:27.

So far, the ingredients are not very appetizing. Add 1 cup sugar. Explain that the sweetest part of the story is that Jesus died because He loves us. He wants us to know and belong to Him.

Read Psalms 34:8 and John 3:16.

Beat with a mixer on high speed for 12 to 15 minutes until stiff peaks are formed (*See note below.) Explain that the color white represents the purity in God's eyes of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus. Read Isaiah. 1:18 and John 3:1-3.

Fold in broken nuts. Drop by teaspoons onto wax paper covered cookie sheet. Explain that each mound represents the rocky tomb where Jesus' body was laid. Read Matthew. 27:57-60.

Put the cookie sheet in the oven, close the door and turn the oven OFF. Give each child a piece of tape and seal the oven door. Explain that Jesus' tomb was sealed. Read Matt. 27:65-66.

GO TO BED! Explain that they may feel sad to leave the cookies in the oven overnight. Jesus' followers were in despair when the tomb was sealed. Read John 16:20 and 22.

On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie. Notice the cracked surface and take a bite. The cookies are hollow! On the day of Christ's Resurrection, Jesus' followers were amazed to find the tomb open and empty. Read Matthew 28:1-9.

My children don't love these cookies, so I don't make a lot of them. But this is such a great way to capture their interest, so that you get an opportunity to bear your testimony to your children about the miraculous, compassionate, and self-sacrificing life of our Savior, and express your love for His life, his atonement, and for our part in the plan.

Happy Easter.