When the last of Saturday’s sun begins to sink below the horizon, the long Sabbath ends, propelling the women into action. Three go to purchase more supplies while the marketplace is still open. Upon their return, tender hands crush and mix dried flowers and pungent spices for hours, all of them soberly sharing this final act of compassion as another night without their beloved Jesus passes by.

When morning nears, they hurry off to the tomb. After walking some distance, one of the women wonders aloud if a stone will seal the entrance into the cave. What will they do if it does? Surely they won’t have the strength to move it. A discussion ensues concerning whether they should get one of the men. But they are almost there, and no one wants to turn back now.

In the predawn darkness, soldiers stand and stretch, tired from the long night. As the morning watch moves into position, the ground begins to shake under their feet. Astonished, the guards cannot believe their eyes when a dazzling creature descends as if from nowhere. With a face like lightning and clothed in brilliant white, the angel rolls the stone away and takes a seat at the top.

Every single guard faints at the sight. Coming to only seconds later, they stumble over one another as they rush frantically into the cave. Panic ensues as they scan its crevices and see for themselves that there is no body there. Gripped by fear, the entire group races back toward Jerusalem, dreading Pilate’s response to what has just happened.

The sun creeps slowly across the eastern sky, though the tomb is still shrouded in darkness as the women arrive. Relieved that there is no stone blocking the sepulcher’s entrance, two of them go inside, only to be devastated at what they find. The body of Jesus is not there.

As they stand forlorn and confused, the cave is suddenly bathed in light revealing the presence of two men in shining robes. Falling in fear to the ground, the women hear a message that seems beyond belief: “Why are you looking in a tomb for Someone who is alive? He is not here—He is risen! Don’t you remember what He said—that the Messiah must be betrayed by evil men and be crucified, and that He would rise again on the third day?”

The two women glance at each other, then tear from the cave. Followed by the others, they run back to Jerusalem where the disciples continue to mourn. Breathless, they tell the men what they have just seen.

The disciples stare at them as if they are crazy, dismissing their words as superstitious nonsense. Blinded by grief, each man returns to his unique brand of sorrow.

Mary Magdalene, distraught by their response, pleads with Peter and John to believe her. “They have taken the Lord’s body—it is gone and I don’t know where they have placed it.”

Something in her voice stirs them. The two men hurry from the house through the streets of the city to the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. John, being younger and faster, arrives first. He bends down and sees the empty cloths, but stays back, afraid. Peter catches up quickly and crashes into the cave, determined to discover the truth.

There on the stone bench lie the linen cloths completely undisturbed, as if a body just disappeared within the folds. On the side lies the headpiece in a tidy roll. Slowly, faith begins to fill the crevices of Peter’s broken heart.

John cautiously joins him in the cave and together they share a moment of pure incredulity. Words from the past echo through their minds. The Rabbi had told them He would rise again—could it be? Is it possible? Can they dare hope? Thoughtfully they walk in silence back to town.

Mary Magdalene, having followed them to the tomb, watches them leave. She begins to weep, stooping down one more time to peer into the empty grave. But this time it isn’t empty. On either end of the bench, where she’d seen them lay Christ, are two white-robed angels.

“Why do you cry?” one asks.

“Because they’ve taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where they put Him.”

Sobbing by now, Mary hears a sound behind her. She looks over her shoulder, and the sight of a gardener gives her a glimmer of hope. “Sir, please—if you have taken Him away, just tell me where, and I will go and get Him.”

“Mary.”

She freezes. Only one person has ever spoken her name like that. Long ago when tortured by demons and having no hope of ever finding peace, she had met Jesus of Nazareth. How can she ever forget the moment when He called out, “Mary,” and light rushed in, expelling the dark forces that had almost destroyed her? The scene flashes through her mind as she turns to face the One who speaks.

“Master!” Mary exclaims, rushing toward Him.

“Wait, Mary—you cannot cling to Me now, for I haven’t yet ascended to My Father. You must go and find My brothers. Tell them that I ascend to My Father and your Father, My God and your God.”

Then He is gone. Mary stands for a moment in complete amazement at what she has seen and heard. Tears stream down her cheeks as she turns to run back to the disciples. “I have seen the Lord,” she tells them. The look in her eyes and wonder in her voice leave no room for doubt that, indeed, she has encountered the risen Christ.

I have seen the Lord. Resurrection hope is spawned in that moment, then spreads like a soothing ointment to all who will believe—some having seen, and others simply by faith—that what Jesus of Nazareth said He would do, He did. And resurrection hope transcends time, instilling eternity in the hearts of humankind.

Respond

Can you even comprehend what Mary must have felt when she heard the voice of Jesus saying her name as only He could say it? Stop and sense the wonder, the joy, and the hope that must have encompassed her complete being. Place yourself there in the time, bringing with you all your fears, your unfulfilled dreams and disappointments. Hear Jesus speaking your name. Listen. Hear it again. Fall at His feet and worship Him. Say aloud, “I have seen the Lord.” Now see yourself running to those you know and those you don’t know. Speak it in the streets and shout it from the mountaintops: “I have seen the Lord.” Run to a world lost and dying in darkness and share with them the hope of a risen Savior. Celebrate! Rejoice! Sing! Shout! Jump for joy! Dance with all your might! The Lord lives! He is worthy! Give thanks! Give Him the honor and praise due His holy name! HE IS RISEN! ALLELUIA! For the Lord our God the Omnipotent reigns!

A Prayer

Oh, my Master, simple joy so fills my heart that I have no words to speak. You are not dead. You are alive. You have defeated death. And I, too, will live with You for eternity. How I long for the day when I will see You face to face, dearest Redeemer. I will kiss Your nail-scarred feet again and again, and I will touch Your wounded side, holding Your battered hands to my face. There I will stay, proclaiming forever, “I have seen the Lord.”

Reprinted by permission. Contemplating the Cross: a Forty Day Pilgrimage of Prayer, Tricia McCary Rhodes, 2004, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Nashville, Tennessee. All rights reserved. Copying or using this material without written permission from the publisher is strictly prohibited and in direct violation of copyright law.

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