he is risen.

The angel spoke to the women, “There is nothing to fear here.  I know you’re looking for Jesus, the One they nailed to the cross.  He is not here.  He was raised, just as he said.”
– Matthew 28.5

I woke up this morning with a surge of joy: He is risen!

He is risen, indeed.

Today is a beautiful day.

It is dry, dusty, and hot, hot, hot, and He is risen.

My heart aches with the brokenness of this country—the family with preschool-aged children crouching on the sidewalk outside their tent-home, rifling through a restaurant’s trash piles at 11 pm.

And He is risen.

I feel the weight of helplessness for our language teacher’s relative, who attempted an abortion, and is now doing everything in her power to induce a miscarriage of her baby girl.

And He is risen.

I ache with longing for good friends, whom we sat at a restaurant with for hours last night, eating, talking, laughing while the kids played around us, listening to them say, “I don’t believe in God, but I feel so moved by people who have genuine faith.”

And He is risen.

The Resurrection is here in South Asia this morning.

We see its power in our friend, formerly a Hindu Brahmin, who now follows Jesus, and invites her Untouchable trash collectors home for chai every morning.

We see its power in a family who, amidst sharp criticism from their parents and their culture, has chosen to grow their family by adopting orphans.

We see its power in a pastor who started a window-washing business, in order to employ church-planters who take the gospel to villages that have never heard the name of Jesus.

We see its power in a tiny, hopeful group of believers gathering on a terrace in the city tonight to feast and fellowship and celebrate their Risen Lord.

The Resurrection is an unstoppable force here in South Asia.

He’s making all things new.