that
the stone covering the entrance had been rolled aside. So they went in,
but they couldn't find the body of the Lord Jesus. They were puzzled,
trying to think what could have happened to it. Suddenly two men appeared
to them, clothed in dazzling robes.
The women were terrified and bowed low before them. Then the men asked,
"Why are you looking in a tomb for someone who is alive? He isn't
here! He has risen from the dead! Don't you remember what he told
you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of
sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again the third day?"You stayed at the home of another disciple. It was too late on Friday night to even begin to think about the journey home. The Sabbath had arrived, and you couldn't travel on the Sabbath. This was fine, for you didn’t really want to. You didn’t really want to do anything. Jesus had been laid in the tomb, and your soul was buried with him.
This is a nightmare, a horrible tease.
You had felt a hole for your whole life, a need for something which was beyond you, something which
would point to God in your life. The Temple had its place, but it was not your
place. You heard the stories of the prophets, the great leaders—David,
Moses, Joseph, all of them—and you wished you could have that relationship.
God was silent in this era. The prophets were gone. Frauds were claiming to speak on his behalf. False prophets were everywhere. You still sought. Then, that day not long ago you found it. You found it all. Everything you dreamed about, everything you hoped for, the power and wisdom of the one who would return Israel to godliness.
Then he died. Shamefully. He was crucified, and he let it happen. There was no doubt. He could have rallied the people. He could have at least died trying to make this world better. Why didn’t he?
You wake up on Sunday morning still confused. Your hosts are gracious, but they do not know how to understand any of this any more than you do. No one thought he would die. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Some of the women woke up earlier, hoping to assuage their grief by doing something, anything. He had not been properly prepared for burial on Friday. It was a miracle he had been buried at all. They left at dawn, around six. You got up when they did, only you had to prepare for your journey home. The house is full of people, people who are quiet and full of sorrow. What is left to say?
There is no reason to stay. It is a long walk home, and time you get back to your life.
A commotion in the front room startles you. Women are screaming, crying, but not in sorrow.
You follow the noise. People are gathered around the women… the same women who had left earlier.
Peter is standing there. He asks the women, “What did you see?”
One of the them, Joanna, replies, “Angels, we saw angels, young men in white. Jesus… he’s not there, he’s not in the tomb.”
“Where have they taken him,” asked Joseph, the man who paid handsomely for the tomb.
“They haven’t taken him,” Joanna said. “That’s the point. He’s not there, he’s not dead! That’s what the angels told us.”
Peter stares at the women, everyone is quiet. He asks, in a whisper, “Could
this be true?”
“It’s true, Peter,” another woman says. “We saw it.”
You hear the door slam open. John is not waiting to talk anymore. He leaves the door open behind him and runs down the street, to the tomb you imagine. Peter turns, looks at John running and follows him.
“This is what he told us,” Joanna continued. “That’s what the angel said. He told us he would live, and he’s alive. He’s alive!”
The house is full of questions and delight. Everyone is laughing and asking for more details.
"Joanna, tell them the rest," Mary said. "Oh, I'll do it. We saw him, we saw Jesus himself too. That's how we know it's true!"
Everyone asked, "You saw him?"
Mary continued, "He met us on the way back. Guess what he said? After all of this he said, "Greetings!" Can you believe it? He's alive, we touched him. He's alive!"
"Why didn't he come here," someone asked.
"He told us to come here," Joanna said, "and tell his disciples to go to Galilee. He's going to meet everyone there."
You want to see for yourself if all this is true, so you push past the
others, and rush into the street, right behind Peter. John is ahead of him,
and moving faster. You see him rush out of the gate. Jesus
is alive? After all that? How could this be true?
Dear Jesus, I came without hope and you give me me hope. I arrived without peace and you give me peace. May I forever keep in mind that first morning when I realized you are alive. Because you are alive, I too shall live.