What changed these very ordinary men (who were such cowards that they did not dare stand too near the cross in case they got involved) into heroes who would stop at nothing? A swindle? Hallucination? Spooky nonsense in a darkened room? Or Somebody quietly doing what He said He’d do — walk right through death? What do you think?

J. B. Phillips (1906-1982), Is God at Home? [1957]
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