Why do Easter Bunnies hide eggs, anyway?

T minus 5 days and counting until my favorite holiday of the year...Easter.

I never realized how much Easter meant to me until I was in high school, and had to work on Easter Sunday. I missed out on the big crowd at church. You know, when everybody you haven't seen since Christmas shows up. I missed out on the fun Easter songs that you sing only on Easter Sunday, like "Up From the Grave He Arose!" and "He Lives!" and many many others. Growing up in a small country church gave me perspective on the whole Easter Sunday thing.
When I was 7, we got a new pastor, Bro. James Wells. On the Sunday night before Easter, he came to talk to our Training Union class. Training Union is apparently now an archaic dinosaur that was really the predecessor to "Small Groups." We met each Sunday night at 6 for Training Union, just like we met for Sunday School at 10 in the morning. We studied in depth particular topics, even when I was 7. Needless to say, we never had as many kids for Training Union as we had for Sunday School. I think there may have been 5 or 6 of us. Bro. Jim talked to us about Jesus, and how He came to die for all of us kids so that we could be in heaven one day. He talked about trusting Jesus with our lives, our hearts, every thing we had.
After Training Union and the PM service, as we were walking out, shaking the preacher's hand, I just remember going to him and saying that I wanted to become a Christian. I wanted Jesus to live in my heart. He took me back in to the steps where we knelt, and he quoted some Scripture passages from Romans to me. I especially remember Romans 10:13--"For whosoever shall call upon the Name of the Lord shall be saved."
I called that night.
And I was saved.
He explained to me what to do next. On the following Sunday, when he gave the "invitation" I needed to walk down that aisle and let the church know that I had been saved. At 7, I had little to no fear whatsoever, and did just that. On Easter Sunday, 1982, I walked the aisle and let my church know what Jesus had done for me.
Being a small country church, we didn't have a baptistry. When people got saved at New Antioch, we usually called up Brookland Baptist to see if we could have a joint evening service with them. I guess we called them and got it set up because the following Sunday night, we journeyed the 2 or 3 miles down the road to join up for a baptism service, where me, Dale Burleson, 12, Matt Mink, 9, and Michael Willey, 9, were baptized.

Dale's family wasn't the most stable. He had a hard time throughout school, and never really much came to church after that. I never really knew him, but I know Matt really looked up to him. Dale was killed in a car crash either when he was about to graduate high school, or just thereafter.
Michael became addicted to drugs while in middle school. He lived with his grandparents, and they sent him away to a rehab center/boarding school. He visited occasionally over the next few years, but we really lost contact. I heard he's living in Virginia or somewhere and doing well with a family of his own.
Matt grew on up at New Antioch with me. He was at church every Sunday, just like me, but he was there because his family made him come. After graduation, he came less and less frequently, and eventually married a girl from Jonesboro. I think they're living in Little Rock now and doing well, attending a church there.

But I do love Easter. I can't remember the exact reasons why I gave my life to Christ 24 years ago. Who knows what goes through a 7 year old's mind? I like to think it has to do with the Easter story.
The greatest story ever told.
We should all tell this story.
Over and over again.

Tell me the story of Jesus. Write on my heart every word. Tell me the story most precious. Sweetest that ever was heard.