It was early morning, and she was tired. The last few nights hadn’t yielded much sleep. Every time she closed her eyes the scenes of Friday vividly filled her mind. The reality still hadn’t sunk in, He was gone. She, along with so many others, had thought He was the Messiah, yet now He was dead, killed by the Romans because of the high priest. He was so kind, so gentle, so loving, and yet they had brutally beaten Him. He hadn’t deserved that. He had healed so many, done so much good, He had freed her from demons, but she had watched those demons crucify him. Sadly she couldn’t save Him the way He had saved her, but she had stayed at His side through all of it. That was the least she could do. Now she would go and do the final thing she could, anoint His broken body so that he could have a proper burial, her final act of respect.
It was still dark when she got to the garden where the tomb was located. There was no one there, the guards were gone, where had they gone? Why had they left their post? It didn’t matter, at least now no one would try to stop her from anointing Him, but how would she get in without their help to move the stone? But as she approached she saw that the stone had already been moved, the tomb was open! She raced to the doorway and looked inside. He was gone, His body wasn’t in the tomb where it had been placed just three days ago. The linen that had covered His body was there, an empty wrinkled cloth laying where His body had been placed. Anger and sadness filled her mind. Who had taken Him? Where? Why? Hadn’t they already done enough? Why couldn’t they just leave Him alone to rest in peace? She had to find Him, she had to return His body to its resting place. She couldn’t do it alone though, she needed help.
She ran back to the city as fast as she could. She had to find the disciples, they needed to know, and they were the only ones who would care to find Him. They would hopefully know what to do. She got to the place they were staying and threw herself against the door pounding on it. No one answered. Again she pounded on the door, and again no one answered. Gasping for breath she called out his name, “Peter!” She heard footsteps inside, slowly the door was unlatched, as it opened she fell forward. Peter caught her, as John closed the door. Through tears and panting she told them what had happened. The stone was moved, the body was gone.
Immediately Peter and John ran out the door, headed for the garden; leaving her to catch her breath, but she couldn’t rest, not until she knew where He was. She got up and began to run back to the tomb. Her bare feet beat against the hard stone streets, her broken heart pounded in her chest. Her legs ached, but she forced them to keep going. Her lungs burned, but she kept running. Back to the tomb.
She entered the garden and saw John standing in the entrance of the tomb looking in, but Peter was standing inside where His body had been placed. He saw the linen He had been wrapped in, he held it in his hand. She went to stand next to John but as she approached he entered the tomb and stood with Peter. He placed his hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him. Peter dropped the cloth and turned to stare at John, his mouth dropped open. They stood there silent for a moment and then turned and walked out of the tomb headed back to Jerusalem, neither one of them speaking, but something about them was different now. What was it?
She stood there, once again alone. The sun was just beginning to break the horizon. In the silence the past began to flood her mind. She thought back to her time in Magdala, when she had been the prisoner of seven demons. She had been an outcast. No one would speak to her, those who looked at her were either terrified or scornful. The only thing anyone would give her were the rocks they threw to drive her away. No one had hugged her in so long that she couldn’t even remember what an embrace felt like. Not until Him.
That day her life had been changed. He had seen her not as a demon possessed outcast, but as a woman who needed help, and the freedom only He could give. He reached out and took her hand. The demons had resisted, they screamed as they tried to pull away from Him, but they were no match for His strong hands or the authority of His voice. He commanded them to release her. She remembered the feeling when they left, all of the strength and energy had been sucked out of her, she collapsed, but then she had been lifted. He gently pulled her to her feet and wrapped His powerful yet gentle arms around her, hugging her, the first gesture of love she had experienced in years. Her tears soaked his robe as He whispered in her ear, “Daughter, it’s over, you are free.”
As it all came back the tears began to flow down her cheeks again. She knelt to look in the tomb one more time. Peter and John had come out of it different. Maybe they had seen something. Maybe if she looked again this time she would see it. As she stared at the stone walls suddenly two angels where there sitting where He had been, one at the head and the other at the feet. She heard them ask, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Did they not know where they were, or what had happened? How could they not know? “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him” she responded, and the tears fell heavier.
She turned to walk back to the city, she would find no answers and no peace here. But as she began to walk a man stood on the path before her. He, like the angels in the tomb asked, “Why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” He must be the gardener, who else would be here this early. Maybe he had moved Him for some reason, maybe he knew where He was.
She turned away from him, sobbing still, and through the tears she said, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will go and get Him.” She simply prayed that he would know, prayed that he would tell her. “Mary!” was His reply. That voice, she knew that voice, it was Him, but how? She had watched them crucify Him. She had seen Him die. She had seen them place Him in the tomb and seal it. “Teacher!” she exclaimed as she turned to look at His face, she hugged Him. She had so many questions, but at the moment she simply hugged Him and cried tears of joy, just as she had three years ago when they first met.
“Mary, you must stop clinging to Me. I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to My disciples and tell them, ‘I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God.” He vanished from her presence, but she knew she had seen Him. She had hugged Him. She knew He was alive. There was peace, there was joy. She laughed as she got up and began to sprint back to Jerusalem. Her legs had been strengthened, and her lungs were full of breath as she proclaimed, “He’s alive!”
She ran to the disciples, though joyous laughter she exclaimed to them, “I have seen the Lord! He is alive!” She told them everything that He had said to her. “He is alive!”
Her story has been told for close to 2,000 years and everywhere her story is shared, her message is proclaimed, “Jesus has overcome, and the grave is overwhelmed! The victory is won, He is risen from the dead!” The tomb is empty and He is ALIVE! Glory to God
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