EASTER DAY

 

God woke me up at 6:00 this morning, an hour before I needed to get up. I knew I had to write. I hope this short writing blesses you on Resurrection Day.

EASTER MORNING

 

Barely enough light trickled through to allow them to see. As they trudged along the path, they struggled to see anything through the tears. Silence reverberated through their grief, as if words would never matter again. Would anything matter?

 

Jesus was dead. Buried. Decaying in a tomb. They were terrified that the soldiers would send them away. Terrified they might arrest them. Terrified that they could not move the stone. Terrified that the stench would overwhelm them. Terrified that even honoring him with proper burial spices would not relieve the pain at all. Terrified that they were absolutely alone now. Terrified that their lives were over, too. Terrified.

 

As they approached the tomb, the light increased, but it was not sunlight. The light came from two beings. Men, but not men – their clothes shining in the midst of the nascent dawn.

 

The women were startled. They should have been frightened, but all their fear was already used up. They stared without comprehension. Why were they here? What did they want?

 

“He’s not here, you know,” they smiled gently. “He is risen – just as he said. Come, see for yourself.” They stepped aside and assured the women into the tomb. The slab on which he had been laid was empty, except for the neatly folded grave clothes.

 

The women looked at one another, still silent. Still no words. Friday their hope had been silenced. Now this. What was this? Another layer of grief? Another injustice done to their friend?

 

They turn to ask their silent questions of the two men. They were gone, but the light persisted. Could it be? Could it?

 

Anyone looking closely might have seen the weak glowing of an ember, thought dead, in their hearts. In their confusion and sadness, the hint of a flame flickered.

 

“He is risen?” One of the women asked quietly, testing her voice.

“He is risen,” another said, testing its possibility.

“He said he had to die.”

“He said he would rise again.”

 

“Maybe,” one said.

“It could be,” another answered.

“He did promise,” said a third tentatively.

“He always kept his word,” said a fourth, more firmly.

 

“He is risen,” they said as one. As they spoke in unison, the flames in their heart grew brighter. The sunrise broke through their darkness.

 

They joined hands and began to run to tell the others. Laughter and singing pushed out the silence. Fear had been replaced with joy. They had not yet seen him, but they knew he was alive, this time for ever.

 

They, too, were alive. More alive than ever.