Touching

Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20.27-28)

The Twin

We know Thomas, the disciple, as “Doubting Thomas,” a moniker that has trailed him for centuries. We look down our noses at his “lack of faith” and think if we were in Thomas’s shoes and learned that Jesus was alive, we wouldn’t ask for actual proof. But all this shows is how poorly we understand Thomas—and how silly we are to form our view of him on popular assumption rather than scriptural information. Before shaking our heads, it’s best to revisit what we know about Thomas and the circumstances of the fateful incident that stains his reputation.

Other than listing him with the Twelve, Mark, Matthew, nor Luke makes mention of Thomas. All we learn comes from John, who includes him in three signal moments in Christ’s ministry: the raising of Lazarus, the Last Supper, and finally, the infamous post-resurrection encounter. Twice, John identifies him as “Thomas (called Didymus)”—or, “Thomas, a.k.a. 'Twin.'” While the others don’t report this, many Bible historians turn to them for clues as to whose “twin” Thomas is. Finding him consistently listed with Matthew, the tax collector, convinces many they’re twins, even though none of the writers—including “Matthew”—confirms it.

What we observe in John, however, suggests Thomas may not be a biological twin at all. “Didymus” may be no more than a fond nickname, because in each case John cites, we’re aware of Thomas’s intense bond with Christ. In John 11, after the disciples discourage Jesus from visiting Lazarus because hostile forces may stone Him, news of His friend’s death compels Jesus to go anyway. The other disciples still have reservations. Not Thomas. He says, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (John 11.16) If Jesus is going to die, Thomas is ready to die, too. Then, during their last meal together, when Jesus says He’s going away and they’ll follow Him later, Thomas voices His concern. “Lord,” he says, “we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus famously answers, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (14.5-6) In both instances, we discover a facet of separation anxiety. In the first, we sense Thomas’s fear that if Jesus visits Lazarus alone, He’ll die alone—and Thomas will live that always. In the second, we understand his fear of Jesus leaving him. Could it be that Thomas is Jesus’s figurative twin, that he’s called “Didymus” in reference to his “twinning” with Christ? It makes sense. And if it’s so, it shines an entirely different light on the third incident.

The Latecomer

Before reevaluating Thomas’s reaction to the Risen Christ, it’s important to establish a few details—and, perhaps, infuse the scene with a few inferences. As we know, Easter turns out being a very busy day. Indeed, so much happens so quickly the Gospel writers can’t quite get the facts straight, giving us four conflicting accounts. Without bogging down in precisely who’s where when, we can summarize the day with three occurrences. Even this startles us with contradictions. After Mary Magdalene and several women find the empty tomb, Jesus appears to her. She reaches for Him, calling Him “Teacher.” But Jesus says, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to my Father.” (John 20.17) Instead, He tells her to inform the disciples He’s alive. They greet her news with speculation, go to the tomb, and finding His body gone, withhold judgment about His resurrection. Later, Jesus appears to two disciples traveling to Emmaus. He’s completely unrecognizable, i.e., He’s altered His likeness to conceal His wounds. While dining with them, He vanishes into thin air. They rush back to tell the others, who sit behind locked doors. Jesus inexplicably appears to them. This time, however, His wounds are visible and He asks the disciples to touch Him. “Look at my hands and feet,” He says. “Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.” (Luke 24.39)

While all this touching and not touching, appearing and vanishing transpires, two disciples are nowhere to be found—Judas and Thomas. We know Judas has since hanged himself. But where’s Thomas? Scripture doesn’t say. Having witnessed his bond with Jesus, though, it’s reasonable he pulls apart to mourn privately. He resurfaces to a lot of stories about the Risen Christ from people he’s seen make mistakes and assumptions many times before. He’s not convinced. “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hands into his side, I will not believe it,” he says. (John 20.25) A week passes before Jesus reappears, again entering a locked room. The others are certain it’s He; they’ve already touched Him. But now watch very closely. Thomas never questions Jesus’s identity. Before he can, Jesus does for him what He did for the rest. “Put your finger here,” He instructs. “See my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” (v27) Once Thomas feels Jesus, he says, “My Lord and my God!” Is Thomas any different than the others? I don’t think so. Doubting Christ lives again is common to all—until they touch Him. Being the latecomer, not the skeptic, singles Thomas out.

Part of the Process

Eastertide finds all of us in no better shape than the disciples, each in our own way trying to process the reality of the Risen Christ. We make our annual pilgrimage to Calvary, the empty tomb, and finally, the disciples’ rooms because much that occurs in a year’s time resurrects doubts in ourselves, as well as our relationship with Christ. What we see in Thomas, then, we see in us. It isn’t literal-mindedness and weakness. If anything, it’s the result of our fervent bond with Jesus. Like the Twin, we strive to be like Christ in every way. When anything threatens to separate us from Him, anxiety spikes. And when we feel isolated from His presence, we may also isolate ourselves. Listening to others isn’t enough to convince us. Touching Jesus is what restores our trust and passion.

Instead of sneering at Thomas, we should admire him. His unabashed insistence reveals he realizes questions are part of the process. What’s more, his story proves Jesus understands this, too. As with Thomas, Christ offers to let us touch Him and then tells us, “Stop doubting and believe.” How easy it would be to base our belief solely on what we’re told. Yet how dangerous that would be. Those who tell us about Jesus are just as prone to mistakes and assumptions as we. How marvelous if we could be like Mary Magdalene and instinctively reach out to Jesus, our Teacher. Yet in these moments our faith is so strong it’s unnecessary to touch Him. Finally, how glorious to know when we’re honest about our doubts, Christ presents His open wounds to heal our shaken faith. The lost connection is restored. Our sorrow ends. Belief begins again.

Doubts are part of the process. Touching Jesus restores our connection to Him.

Complete the Task

I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace. (Acts 20.24)

Witnessing

Both Walt and I were reared in evangelically skewed traditions, his more so than mine. (Q: What sect gets the most grief from pundits and comedians for passing out literature door-to-door? A: The one he grew up in.) As kids, we were dragged out for regular “witnessing” excursions. Walt’s weekly forays happened on Saturday mornings, prime cartoon time for kids, explaining why our DVD collection is stocked to the gills with old “Flinstones” and “Jetsons” episodes. My church set aside one Saturday afternoon each month for similar activities. Being the pastor’s son made attendance compulsory, ruling out a lot of things I’d rather have done. Both of us resented being forced to “witness.” Now that we’re older, we laugh at the corkscrew logic in asking total strangers to stop what they’re doing so we could try to convert them. Witnessing in this paradigm disregarded others’ time and beliefs. On one hand, it didn’t reflect Christ’s gentle hospitality. On the other, impinging on people who believed in Jesus (just not “our way”) surely struck them as silly—selling ice to Eskimos, as they say.

There is no doubt we are called to witness. The Great Commission, Jesus’s final charge to His followers, comes down to “go and make disciples of all nations.” (Matthew 28.19) And in His salutary remarks before ascending into Heaven, He explicitly states the Holy Spirit enables our witness: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1.8) Yet neither of these statements—nor, for that matter, anything Jesus says about spreading the Gospel—implies witnessing should be reduced to one-on-one marketing campaigns or neighborhood canvasses. If only it were that easy, we’d gladly soak swollen knuckles after a hard day of door-knocking! There’s more to making disciples and being witnesses than pounding the pavement to distribute magazines or invite people to church. Witnessing is less about telling than showing. That re-centers our focus from what we say to who we are.

Unpredictable Circumstances

While anonymous evangelism sometimes proves successful, compared to exemplary witness, its effectiveness is markedly lower. Speaking as a stranger to strangers removes credibility from the equation. They don’t know if we live by our lines; we don’t know if what we say resonates. Thankfully, though, it’s also fairly harmless. At worst, it creates awkward situations. Witnessing by example, in contrast, often puts us in unpredictable circumstances—in places where actively portraying Christ’s principles subverts popular opinion, among people who read non-conformity as an overt threat. To obey Christ’s commission to enter and live in the world as His witnesses means we won’t avoid this. Nor should we try.

In Acts 20, we see Paul doing just as Jesus commanded: traveling far and wide, making disciples. Being a public figure whose reputation precedes him, he's well known by Christians, their antagonists, and many non-believers. The Apostle's itinerary is grueling. He darts about the Aegean by boat, docking in a new port nearly every day. He plans to travel inland to Ephesus, but it’s soon apparent he’s spread too thin. Hoping to return to Jerusalem for the Feast of Pentecost, he asks the Ephesians to meet him in Miletus, a coastal village. During his talk with them, Paul offers a most revealing comment about witnessing. He says he’s “compelled by the Spirit” (v22) to go to Jerusalem, uncertain what may happen there. All he knows is the Holy Spirit warns him he faces prison and hardships wherever he goes. This doesn’t deter him, though. His sole objective is to “finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.” (v24)

Lives We Lead

Paul’s ministry is extraordinary—unparalleled then and now. His task is not. It’s the same task Christ gives everyone who follows Him. He calls each of us to testify to the gospel of God’s grace. That’s how disciples make disciples. And our effectiveness rests completely how well we witness the miracle of grace in our own lives. In Paul’s case, the spark that sets his witness ablaze is his turnabout on the Damascus Road. His supernatural encounter with the Risen Christ irrevocably changes and redirects his life. Yet his testimony of the event meets with much skepticism, even causing some to question Paul’s apostolic bona fides. Intense awareness of God’s grace constantly fuels his witness. The flame never flickers. That establishes his credentials and accounts for his success. Paul cops to his weaknesses, admitting faults in almost every letter he writes. With outsized ego chief among them, it’s safely said his motives surpass polite self-deprecation. Paul can’t stop pointing out his shortcomings because He’s awestruck by grace.

Conversion experiences are important. But since they’re given to us specifically for us, it’s highly possible they’ll be viewed with reservation when we share them. Our word isn’t reliable. That’s why Jesus calls us to be His witnesses. We testify to His grace with open lives that passionately embrace God’s acceptance and mercy for everyone who believes. The Casting Crowns song posted here last Friday summarizes it beautifully: “It’s not because of who I am. It’s because of what You’ve done. It’s not because of what I’ve done. It’s because of Who You are.” Once that becomes the music of our souls, what it means will emerge in our attitudes and actions. Paul is right. Jerusalem is full of religious types to doubt our conversion. There will always be someone who challenges our faith. We can’t tell them any different, because we needn’t tell them anything. The gospel of grace isn’t imparted in what we say. It’s witnessed in lives we lead. The Lord Jesus entrusts each of us with this. We must complete the task.

Our witness isn’t in words; it’s in lives that reveal the grace God gives.

Stay

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. (Luke 24.28-39)

The Whole Town’s Talking

Though hardly a sacrifice, idle chatter was one of my Lent restrictions. This made keeping up with current events difficult, as today’s news is buried in bias, assumption, and speculation. It also strained many personal conversations. I’m sure I unintentionally offended some people by encouraging my mind to stray toward more edifying thoughts when the talk veered toward frivolous complaints and gossip. (God bless Walt, my stream-of-consciousness maestro; this season's been especially tough on him.) All I did, really, was tighten my filter to minimize distractions—remaining in touch with important events while screening out the trivia. For instance, I’m delighted healthcare reform passed. But I have no idea how crazy things got to get there. I assume they did go berserk, since I kept shying away from conversations about it.

It’s a lame comparison, yet what I’m feeling—what many of us are feeling, I’m sure—in some ways approximates what Jesus must feel as He reenters the human realm. Hours after confirming He’s alive again to Mary Magdalene and she reports the news to the disciples, He encounters two of them walking to Emmaus, a hamlet seven miles north-northwest of Jerusalem. For all they know, He’s just another provincial on His way home from the big city. Luke 24.16 says, “They were kept from recognizing him.” How or why this is we’re not sure, but it makes sense, having seen celebrities alter their looks to mingle with us “regular people.” After Jesus catches up to them, He asks what they’re talking about. The men halt in their tracks. Some translations add they give Jesus a “sad” or “downcast” look, which in light of their response sounds a whole lot like condescension: “Are you only a visitor to Jerusalem and do not know the things that have happened there in these days?” (v18) In other words, “The whole town’s talking. You only could have missed this by not having many friends.” The accidental truth in their reaction may cause Jesus to smile inwardly. (I would.) In any case, He decides to ferret out what they think happened. “What things?” He asks. (v19)

Not What They Wanted

Jesus puts Himself in the peculiar spot of listening to others tell His story. The two disciples begin well (or so it seems) by reviewing the headlines. They inform Him they’re talking about Jesus of Nazareth. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people,” they say. “The chief priests and rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him.” (v19-20) If Jesus were an ordinary man blessed with extraordinary gifts that catapulted Him into extraordinary circumstances, He might mistake their broad-brush summary for a quick build-up to the Big Story—the headline to top all headlines: JESUS IS ALIVE AGAIN! But since He knows where this is going, it’s conceivable He’s already peeved to hear them speak of Him in the past tense. He says nothing when they end the story with His death and segue into news analysis. In so many words, they confide their disappointment with Christ’s death as not what they wanted: “We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place.” (v21)

One almost sees Jesus offer a nod ("OK, and...") to nudge them back to the facts, a sort of non-verbal cue for them to declare His resurrection. But they’re too literal-minded for any such possibility. The same logic-bound mentality that squelched their understanding of the cross trusses their faith in His resurrection. They spin it as a hysterical rumor—and by “hysterical,” I mean in its original misogynist sense. They tell Jesus, “Some of our women went to the tomb this morning, found Jesus’s body was missing, and rushed back with tales about angels saying He was alive. So a few of the guys went to have a look. The tomb was empty alright, but there was no sign of Jesus.” Their curt dismissal of the women’s report outrages Jesus. “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” He scolds. “Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” (v25-30) He takes over, methodically going through Moses and the prophets to explain why His death isn’t a failure, why He is the Promised King, and why He’s alive again. Still unaware of Who He is, they marvel at how He opens their minds. When they get to their village and Jesus says He’s going on farther, they implore Him, “Stay with us!”

Eyes Wide Open

Most everyone’s favorite part comes next. Jesus replicates the Last Supper, giving thanks for the bread and breaking it. At last, they recognize Him and once they do, He disappears from sight. The two men are giddy with joy. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” they exclaim. (v32) They rush back to Jerusalem and vouch for the women’s witness. It’s a terrific way to button things up, but frankly I’m not impressed. Shouldn’t their faith have been so strong they were looking for the Risen Christ with eyes wide open when He joined them? Shouldn’t their journey to the cross have shaken scales of doubt and selfishness, politics and sexism from their eyes? Shouldn’t their hearts have burned in them the instant they heard of His resurrection? Shouldn’t they have begged Christ to stay with them because He was alive, not because they weren’t so sure of it?

Yesterday, Christians proclaimed, “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” Unless said with conviction, though, it smacks of a yo-yo effect: up-down, up-down, now you see Him, now you don’t. This is not what He intended. Jesus defeated death so He could remain with us. His last words in Matthew 28.20 are, “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” If we’ve listened and watched closely on the road to Calvary, we know He walks with us always, along every road we travel. We keep our eyes wide open to recognize Him, no matter what shape He takes. We invite Him to stay with us because He came to stay. This Easter miracle isn’t “breaking news” that stirs up commotion for a few days and fades into history. It’s the beginning of a story that’s far from over and we’re more than confident He’ll be here to the end.

Our journey to Calvary with Christ has opened our eyes to see Him walking with us always, whether on the Emmaus Road (above) or any other road we travel.

(NOTE: With Lent’s conclusion, Straight-Friendly will return to its previous three-per-week format. I hope you’ll continue to drop by frequently and contribute to our conversations here. God bless you—and have a terrific week.)

Postscript: Lenten "Sounds of the Season" Playlist

Several people have mentioned they were following the Lenten music videos and building iPod playlists of their favorites. For anyone interested in catching up, here's the entire list of featured songs. I've checked the iTunes store for their availability. Asterisks indicate the same song recorded by a different artist. Recordings not available through iTunes are also noted, although they may possibly be found elsewhere on the Web. My, but we went through a lot music!

Available to You, Rev. Milton Brunson and the Thompson Community Singers

I Surrender All, The Isaacs

Thief, Third Day

Shine, Collective Soul

You Are My Hope, Skillet

My Help (Cometh from the Lord), Ron Winans Family & Friends*

Refiner’s Fire, Brian Doerksen*

Everything We Need, Steve Bell and Fresh I.E.

You Are God Alone, Phillips, Craig, and Dean

You Can’t Hurry God, Dorothy Love Coates

He Is Exalted, Twila Paris

‘Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus, The Don Marsh Chorus and Orchestra*

Imagine Me, Kirk Franklin

All I Ever Have to Be, Amy Grant

Amazing Grace/My Chains Are Gone, Chris Tomlin

If I Can Help Somebody, Witney Phipps*

Heart of Worship, Matt Redman

I’m Forgiven, The Imperials*

Mercy on Those, Phoebe Snow

Alone in the Presence, CeCe Winans

Instrument of Peace, Frances Key/Cyrille Verdoux (N/A)

Praise the Lord, Russ Taff

His Strength is Perfect, Steven Curtis Chapman

Sabbath Song, Neville Peter (N/A)

O How He Loves You and Me, The Don Marsh Chorus and Orchestra

God’s Children, The Kinks

I Know That My Redeemer Liveth (Handel)

Whiter Than Snow, Joslin Grove Choral Society

Servant Song, David Haas*

Trust and Obey, Hillsong (N/A)

Hallelujah! (Handel)

I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus, One Clear Voice*

The Old Rugged Cross, John Berry

You Are the Living Word, Fred Hammond & Radical for Christ

Who Am I? Casting Crowns

Requiem in D Minor: Domine Jesu and Hostias (Mozart)

Church Medley (O Glory Hallelujah), The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir

Somewhere Else

The men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” (Luke 24.5-6)

Keeping Tabs

Amid their abject mourning for Jesus and sorting out what’s exactly happened over the last 72 hours, Christ’s followers also deal with numerous anxieties of a critically urgent nature. They are far from home, trapped in a city that violently turned on their Rabbi at the instigation of authorities who conspired to kill Him. They fear for their lives. No one who might help them safely escape Jerusalem can be trusted. Already, they’ve lost control of the Lord’s body, which they must take with them to properly re-bury in Nazareth. Fearing removal of the corpse from its borrowed tomb will fuel rumors of resurrection, Jesus’s enemies have arranged for a Roman sentry to stand guard around the clock. This cuts off any possibility of sneaking out of town overnight.

Much as it pains me to point out, the disciples respond to these problems along gender-typical lines. The men hunker down “with the doors locked for fear of the Jews.” (John 20.19) They can’t do anything until they get their bearings. But the women—ah, the women—have greater concerns than personal safety and exit strategies. Keeping tabs on Christ’s body is most important to them. They’ve just seen sadistic injustices committed against His person. They have zero faith His remains will be treated respectfully until He reaches His final resting place. It is they who follow Joseph of Arimathea to learn exactly where he buries Jesus. According to Luke, they use the little time left before Sabbath to prepare spices and perfumes to ready Christ’s body for removal on Sunday morning. The longer they hide in Jerusalem, the less likely this will be feasible. As dawn breaks, they’re dressed and headed to the tomb, hoping for the best—they’ll find His body unmolested and be allowed to move Him—but fearing the worst. Nearing the tomb, their hearts break. It’s even worse than they imagined.

Remember?

The guard has fled the scene. The unattended tomb has been pried open, its heavy stone pushed completely to the side, indicating the work of a several men. Without stepping into the crypt, they know Jesus’s body is gone. But their anguish turns to chilling horror when they find His grave clothes left behind. Somewhere, Christ’s naked body is the centerpiece of a macabre celebration, the butt of a grotesque joke, or the victim of a final degradation contrived by His enemies. The confluence of emotions—gut-wrenching grief, panic, terror, and disgust—unleashes a bottomless sea of wails. The women fall upon one another, trying in vain to support each other. They crumble to the tomb floor. So engulfing is their sorrow a moment passes before they sense they’re not alone.

They look up to see “two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning.” (Luke 24.4) Before the women can collect their thoughts to see if the strangers can tell them what’s happened to Jesus, the men ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” They know the women are looking for Jesus and why not finding Him overwhelms them with grief. “He isn’t here,” they say. “He has risen!” (v6) Risen? The consternation on the women’s faces begs further explanation. “Remember?” the messengers respond. “Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’” (v6-7) Clarity breaks through their overcast spirits. Christ’s voice stirs in the sleepy hollows of their memory. In their mindfulness of religious burial conventions, they’d let His assurance slip from their thoughts. “Then they remembered his words,” Luke writes in verse 8.

In the Now

Today we rejoice in the greatest day in human history. We make our pilgrimage to the tomb not to find Christ, but to confirm He isn’t there. By the time we arrive, He’s somewhere else—alive among the living, no longer paralyzed by the past, but forever present in the now. Although we approach the grave fully expecting to see it torn open, with Christ gone, His grave clothes piled on the plinth, and angelic messengers to inform us that He has risen, we also need our memories shaken. If all we take from Easter is the promise of new life, we come away with nothing. Easter isn’t about promises but realities. Its message can only be found among the living, not the dead. People and places entombed by doubt and logic, religious legalism and convention, irrational fear and hatred exist. But they're not alive. They’re shrouded in the past and ossified behind heavy stones of false pride and power, lifeless in darkness hidden by ornate architecture. None of this moves us, however, because we don't linger in cemeteries. We only pass this way to remember new life is already ours. We belong with the living, not the dead—in the now, not the past.

In Romans 8.11, we read, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.” The power of resurrection is alive and resides in each of us. We defy death every day, not merely in the physical sense, but also in our spiritual, emotional, and intellectual lives. We cannot be defeated by deadly influences, feelings, and ideas—or the torments they inflict. We are first, foremost, and always alive.

By all means, we honor the Easter women’s sacred intentions. Still, they got it wrong. They forgot Christ's teaching. They succumbed to the conventional notion that preserving His remains in a safe place would keep the memory of Jesus alive. But the Spirit of resurrection alive in Christ would not allow Him to be sealed in the past. Defeat was impossible. That’s why the women arrived at the tomb to learn He was already somewhere else, alive among the living, alive in the now. May the same Spirit of resurrection that lives in every one of us grant us the power to follow Him.

With prayers for a joyously alive Easter to each of you.

We pass by the empty tomb to remind us Jesus is somewhere else—alive among the living, alive in the moment. And we follow Him there.

Postscript: Easter Alive

If you’ve never celebrated Easter in a large Pentecostal church, I strongly advise adding it to your list of “must-do” sacred experiences. At some point, the choir invariably breaks out an up-tempo selection very much like this “Church Medley” of age-old “testimony songs” by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. And, oh my, the rejoicing begins! From side-to-side, front-to-back not a soul can doubt they’ve found the risen Christ among the living, in the now. Enjoy!

CHURCH MEDLEY

I call on Jesus, a Wonderful Counselor

Oh, glory hallelujah

Oh, glory hallelujah

Glory hallelujah to the Risen King

Living, He loved me

Dying, He saved me

Buried, He carried my sins far away

Rising, He justified

Freed me forever

One day He's coming back

O glorious day

Oh, glory hallelujah...

Send it on down, Lord

Send it on down

Lord, let the Holy Ghost come on down

We can't do nothing

"Til you send it down

Lord, let the Holy Ghost come on down

Oh, glory hallelujah...