It is Sunday. She is grieving. Not only had He died, but now it appeared His body had been stolen.
Jesus had delivered her from seven demons. She had invested her life in following Him. And now He and His body were gone. Her tears blinded her to the reality of angels and the nearness of her Savior.
Until He said her name, "Mary."
(John 20:11-16)
It is Sunday. Hearts still grieve. Tears still flow. He still lives.
Listen for your name.
It is Saturday. It is Sabbath. It is a day of rest from labors and focus on God.
The Roman soldiers go about their business, retelling the stories of yesterday.
The Pharisees and Chief Priests conduct their Sabbath rituals with blood stained hands supposing they are done with this man named Jesus.
Those touched by His healing hand, comforted by His tender compassion and instructed by His Kingdom teaching wonder about what was…what could have been…what will they do now.
The remaining eleven of the inner circle seclude themselves in fear. Could they be next?
He had told them that He must die, but would live again. Yet they seemed not to hear or at least not to understand.
How difficult it is to see hope in the darkness of doubt and fear. Second guessing shortens our vision and our memories.
Though death had taken Him away from their sight, a million things were still happening they could not see. And the morrow would prove it.
When clouds of doubt and dismay obscure your vision of His face, trust and know that He is yet there, working, smiling, loving and readying the dawn.
Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)
