The risen Christ left a folded face cloth in the tomb—His silent signature that the work is fully, finally done.
Yet how many turn His sending into striving, His commission into a ladder of performance:
“Do more, give more, build more—or you’re failing Me.”
That voice is not His.
“It is finished,” He whispers.
Rest in the doing of Another, and from that rest bear witness that the war is over.
