I saw Jesus. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples that whoever welcomes them welcomes him—and that even offering someone a cup of cold water matters in the kingdom of God. Jesus’ words became very clear and real to me one Easter when, just like Mary, I am certain I saw Jesus.
You’re probably starting to feel uncomfortable. Maybe you’re thinking that the stresses of our time have finally affected my mental state to the point that I’m hallucinating. Maybe you’re right, but stick with me. I saw Jesus.
It was Easter morning 1988, at a Presbyterian church in St. Louis where I was a member. The congregation prided itself on both its outreach ministries and its high-church worship services. Every Sunday—not just Easter—worship began with a grand procession and lots of pomp. So formal were these services that the children worshiped separately in another part of the building, so as not to disturb the adults or, heaven forbid, disrupt the formality. It was all very decent and orderly.
