I was absent, but I was included. I know the story was more than just gossip because I’ve read the detailed first-person account of the incident.

One convicted criminal spent his last moments sneering, jeering, and cursing God. A few feet away another criminal realized the error of his way and was repentant. There was a third person who also had been deemed guilty, and his silence was a deafening echo.

Several soldiers were present and each one was dedicated to enforce the sentence that had been handed down. The dedication of these soldiers paled in comparison to the devotion of the heartbroken mother who watched their methodical execution of her son.

The day was full of contrasts. The scene was painted in bold brush strokes of black and white, unjust acts of cruelty and the faint colors of fairness; foreboding evil and enveloping goodness; and the certainty of death with the hope of life.

The climactic moment of that day occurred when the obscenity of wickedness met the hallowed and holy. In those seconds that seemed like hours, people witnessed the worst of humanity and the best of the Divinity.

This all happened on a particular day thousands of years ago. It was the day Jesus was hung on a cross. As He was suspended between heaven and earth, He became the essence of sin. On that day His earthly life was ended, so we could begin a new life with the gift of salvation. That was the day, He said, “It is finished”, so we could start over as a new creation in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17).

That was the day that He gave the world the potential to change. Today is your day to make the most of the opportunity He has given to you.

Think about it!

To most people, May 25th is an insignificant day. It is just the 25th day of May, and there is nothing remarkable about it.

May 25th is much more to me. It is a day that kindles a fire in my brain and regenerates the memories and life-lessons that I formed in the first 12 years of my life.

My dad, Eddie Seymour, died in an oil field accident on May 25, 1965. I can remember the events of that day as clearly as if they were happening today. I can even tell you what I had in the brown paper sack that had my picnic lunch—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some corn chips.

Dad was 36 when he died. I was 12. That was 48 years ago, and the older I get the more I realize how young he was when he died; and, the older I get, the more I value the lessons I learned from him.

One memory that has been fresh on my mind today is a fishing trip when we were wading the Arkansas River down by Oxford. The river was running high and the current was so swift it washed the sandy bottom out from under my feet and it quickly carried me downstream. I can still hear Dad’s reassuring voice as he shouted out words of encouragement to me and guided me to the safety of the shore.

Whenever I think of that incident, I think of the times in my life when the currents of adversity have knocked me off my feet. In those times, I’ve heard the voice of my heavenly Father encouraging me: Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light (Matthew 11).

Are you weary, worn out, and beat down from the trials of life? Listen carefully and you can hear that personal invitation: Come to Me.