Waiting for the Resurrection

Holy Saturday.

It’s wedged in between Good Friday and the beauty of Easter Sunday. So many of us rush from the agony of the cross to the empty grave, but this year has got me thinking a lot about the day in between. What must it have been like for the followers of Christ? That dark Friday afternoon they scattered – fearful and devastated. This was not what they had in mind when they began following Rabbi Jesus. Their preconceived notions of what life would be like certainly didn’t include their teacher being brutally killed and placed on public display.

I’m sure as the shock wore off, they dealt with the uncertainty of what their future would look like. They left everything to follow him. They left their careers, their families, and their friends. For the last few years, they traveled the countryside. They’d seen him walk on water. Heal the blind. Raise the dead. Surely, these Roman soldiers were no match for him. Yet, when Jesus sighed “It is finished,” legions of angels did not swoop to his rescue. They could see no triumphant victory on the horizon. All they saw was the end. I’m sure it was frightening. I’m sure they cried. I’m certain they asked themselves why he didn’t choose to display his power and authority like they had seen him do so many times in the past.

Perhaps they were confused and heartbroken.

But Resurrection’s coming.

It’s on the horizon. As the hints of sunlight peeked over the borrowed tomb, the grave could contain him no longer.

The women sought to process their grief through caring for his body. Busy hands to distract a broken heart. They would anoint him with fragrant oils and spices. One final tribute to the one who they followed and loved. They find instead an empty, stone tomb. Instead of a body, they find body guards. Two angels at the head and foot of the slab, like the two angels perched at the edges of the Mercy Seat (John 20:12).

The angel questions Mary Magdalene: “Why are you weeping? (John 20:13)

She tells them that all she knows is that someone has taken away the body of her Lord, and she doesn’t know where to find it. In her grief, she focuses on what she can see in front of her. The tomb is empty. The only logical reason is because someone has stolen the body. It’s too much. It’s not right.

She turns away from the tomb as a fresh wave of grief overwhelms her.

Someone different asks her the same question again. “Woman, why are you weeping?” but then he adds an additional question “Whom are you seeking?”

Mary, focused on the problem at hand – the missing body – begs the man to tell her where he put the body so that she can take care of it.

Then he says her name.
“Mary.”

That’s all it took. She turns to him, looking up from the ground and turning from the empty tomb behind her to the Savior standing in front of her. This was no gardener. It was her Rabboni, her teacher.

She clings to him, and doesn’t want to let him go. I don’t blame her. After the darkness of Saturday, she has a glimpse of light…she clings to it. She came looking for a dead body, but she found a risen Lord. He doesn’t want her to stay though. She must tell the others.

******
Eleven scared disciples huddle behind a locked door. Their future uncertain and certainly frightening.

Then He was there. Suddenly the darkness of Saturday was replaced by the glory of the resurrection. Where once was death, now was life. Where once was despair, now was hope. The death was very real. The loss, sincerely felt, but that was not the end of the story. God had a final chapter in mind. The glory of the resurrection is the triumph over death.

The death was very real. The loss was sincere. The fear. The anxiety. The grief. We shouldn’t rush through it. They didn’t know the end of the story like we do. They didn’t know that Easter’s dawn would drive away the shadows of Friday’s gloom and Saturday’s shadows. All they knew was that moment. So they huddled together. They prayed. They did what they could. Waiting. Worried. Wondering what the future would look like.

I can understand what that’s like. I’m encouraged that often when God sends a messenger, the first words they utter are “Do not be afraid.”

I think that’s because fear is our natural instinct. When things feel overwhelming or uncertain or unexpected, our hearts fill with fear. We have no control.

We’re in the garden of our grief, our pain our uncertainty. We’ve come to tend to the body, not expecting to find the Savior.

He is there.

You can cling to him.

You can hear him call your name.

He promises to never leave us or forsake us, and his word is trustworthy and true.

Hear Jesus whisper, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”

Do not be afraid. He has risen, just as he said.