The Women Who Went To The Tomb

Originally written and posted Easter 2016.

Easter morning would be an appropriate time to read the story of the resurrection, I think. So this morning, I did, in all four gospels. I smiled at the familiarity of some of it, and re-read some places that I have not recalled. One thing repeatedly stood out to me through it all: the women who went to the tomb. They loved the Lord with their whole hearts, worshipped Him, and were grieving for Him… So much so, that they could not even recognize Him as He came to comfort them. Their hearts were so pained by their hurt and grief, the horror they had seen of an innocent man being traitored and murdered… they could not see clearly, the Son of God Himself.

How many times in my life, even now, have I been so clouded by my own hurt, sadness and problems, that I cannot see the Lord right there in my own life? In the middle of problems, heartache and sadness, He is right there, but like those wonderful women, all I can do is weep at the darkness, at what has been. At Belgium. And Brussels. And our hometown family devastated by fire. At my own trials, which seem insurmountable at times. My eyes see the Lord of All, in His greatest triumph, there to comfort me… As no more than a gardener. Even when He speaks in love and kindness and caring to me, my sorrow and heavy heart drowns out the heart strings of recognition that try to pull me to His peace. I still only see and hear a gardener. Not the Christ. Not the miracle.

This morning, my renewed hope is that I see the Lord for what He truly is. In my life. In the world. I every friend’s life who needs help seeing. May my sadness and sometimes tired bones melt away at the revelation that He has Risen. May I see Him as the Light of the world… Even my world. And today, my prayer is that we all push past our pain and grief, personal or world wide, and see that truly, He is Risen!