Years ago, my wife Gracie sang for President George W. Bush at a special event in Nashville. That performance opened another door. A year later, she was invited to sing at the 2004 Republican National Convention at Madison Square Garden in New York.
After her performance in New York, we were ushered into the president’s box – seated just behind George H. W. and Barbara Bush. The following day, the White House called again while we were packing to head home.
They wanted us on the platform with the president as he accepted his nomination.
That Thursday night, the arena roared. Flags hung sharp and bright overhead. The crowd’s cheers rattled the seats. The place pulsed like a living thing. If you watch the footage, you’ll see Gracie and me just over the president’s left shoulder, clapping until our hands gave out.
As surreal as it all felt, one moment stood out – and it didn’t happen on the stage or near the president. It came a week after the Nashville event. I was back at the same hotel and walked past the ballroom – the same room that had held the president, Secret Service, media, and the temporary seat of American power.
Now?
Empty. No podium. No flags. Not even a chair left behind. Just another room, waiting for the next event.
That’s the thing about power in this world. It shows up big – but it doesn’t stay.
The stage comes down. The room resets. The moment passes.
THE EASTER REVOLUTION CAUSES THE TYRANTS OF THE WORLD TO TREMBLE
Even Madison Square Garden – iconic as it is – followed the same pattern. One night, it was a national spotlight. The next, just an arena again.
In January, I watched President Donald Trump’s second inauguration. As former President Bush and his wife Laura entered the Capitol Rotunda, their arrival was announced and warmly met with polite applause. But it didn’t compare to the thunderous welcome he’d once received on that stage in New York – or even in that hotel ballroom.
The weight and the glory of the office had moved on.
That’s how it works. Earthly glory is loud, impressive – and short-lived.
But not with Christ.
He didn’t take a stage. He was lifted onto a Roman cross – like Moses lifting the serpent in the wilderness. He was raised – not to inspire but to save.
IN JUST 3 DAYS YOUR LIFE CAN CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. EASTER SHOWS HOW
The hill wasn’t grand. Golgotha was a dump.
No spotlight. No entourage. No applause. Just a Savior – and a cross.
Presidents hold borrowed power. Christ doesn’t borrow anything.
And here’s the difference: when a president leaves the room, the power goes with him.
When Christ enters a life, He stays.
He doesn’t come for ceremony. He comes to reign – and the trappings of His office never leave.
HOLY WEEK AND EASTER SUNDAY OFFER A MESSAGE LIKE NO OTHER. AND IT CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE
That night in Madison Square Garden, when President Bush stepped forward, the air snapped with energy – it was electric.
But it was just a spark compared to what Christ brings.
“And the government shall be upon His shoulder…” (Isaiah 9:6)
That’s not a political slogan. It’s a throne.
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Presidents take an oath of office for a term. Jesus sealed an eternal promise with His own blood.
Eventually, presidents leave the platform. Christ left a grave.
Madison Square Garden shook with applause. The Earth shook at Christ’s resurrection, and the stone rolled away.
We stood behind a president once on a stage the whole world saw. But on Easter, we celebrate the One who holds the whole world.
We once stood in power’s shadow. Because of Easter, we can stand in its source.
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