Persevere

Persevere

At that time there was a strong earthquake. An angel of the Lord came down from heaven, went to the tomb, and rolled the stone away from the entrance. Then he sat on the stone. He was shining as bright as lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The soldiers guarding the tomb shook with fear because of the angel, and they became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, “Don’t be afraid. I know that you are looking for Jesus, who has been crucified. He is not here. He has risen from the dead as he said he would. Come and see the place where his body was. And go quickly and tell his followers, ‘Jesus has risen from the dead. He is going into Galilee ahead of you, and you will see him there.’” Then the angel said, “Now I have told you.”

The women left the tomb quickly. They were afraid, but they were also very happy. They ran to tell Jesus’ followers what had happened. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings.” The women came up to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Go and tell my followers to go on to Galilee, and they will see me there.” (Matthew 28:2-10)

You know how you can read a story you think you know, and then read it again and see something you’ve never seen before? You know how you can read about the same event a hundred times and then, on the 101^st reading, hear something so striking, see something so new that it makes you wonder if you slept through the other hundred times? Yeah, me too.

Maybe it’s because we started in the middle of the story instead of at the beginning. Or, perhaps it’s because someone else reads it aloud and pauses at a place where we normally wouldn’t and then, POW, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You grab the book and look at it, convinced that someone copied or read something wrong. But then you read it and . . . “Well-what-do-you-know? Why, look at that!”

It happened to me. Only God knows how many times I’ve read the resurrection story before – at least a couple of dozen Easters, and maybe a hundred times in between. I’ve taught it. I’ve meditated on it. I’ve underlined it. But what I saw this time I’d never seen before. But before I tell you what I discovered, let’s recount the story to help set the stage.

It’s early dawn on Sunday morning and the sky is dark. Those, in fact, are John’s words: “It was still dark . . . .” (John 20:1) It’s a dark Sunday morning. It had been dark since Friday. Dark with Peter’s denial. Dark with the disciples’ betrayal. Dark with Pilate’s cowardice. Dark with Christ’s anguish. Dark with Satan’s glee.

The only ember of light was the small band of women standing at a distance from the cross — watching. (Matt. 27:55) And among them were two Mary’s – one the mother of James and Joseph, and the other is Mary Magdalene. But why are they there? They’re there to call his name. To be the final voices he hears before his death. To prepare his body for burial. They are there to clean the blood from his beard; to wipe the crimson from his legs; to close his eyes; to touch his face. That’s why they’re there. The last to leave Calvary, and the first to arrive at the grave.

So, early on that Sunday morning they leave their pallets and walk out onto the tree-shadowed path. Theirs is a somber task because the morning promises only one thing: an encounter with a corpse. Remember, Mary and Mary don’t know this is the first Easter. They’re not hoping the tomb will be vacant. They aren’t discussing what their response will be when they see Jesus. They have absolutely no idea that the grave was empty.

Oh, there was a time when they dared to dream such dreams. But not now. It’s too late for the incredible. The feet that walked on water had been pierced. The hands that healed lepers and gave sight to the blind had been stilled. Their noblest aspirations had been spiked into Friday’s cross. Mary and Mary have come to place warm oils on a cold body, and bid farewell to the one man who had given reason to their hopes.

But it isn’t hope that leads the women up the mountain to the tomb. It’s duty. Simple, pure, naked devotion. They expect nothing in return. I mean, what could Jesus possibly give them? What could a dead man offer? The two women are not climbing the mountain to receive; they’re going to the tomb to give. Period. And there’s no motivation more noble.

There are times when we, too, are called to love, expecting nothing in return. Times when we are called to give money to people who will never say thank you, or to forgive those who won’t forgive us, or to come early and stay late when no one else notices, much less cares. Service prompted by duty. That’s the call of discipleship.

Mary and Mary knew a task had to be done — Jesus’ body had to be prepared for burial. Peter didn’t offer to do it. Andrew didn’t volunteer. The forgiven adulteress, or the healed lepers, or the recently-sighted are nowhere to be seen. So the two Mary’s decide to do it.

I wonder if, maybe halfway to the tomb, they’d sat down and maybe even reconsidered. What if they’d looked at each other and shrugged, “What’s the use?” What if they’d given up? What if one had thrown up her arms in frustration and said, “I’m tired of being the only one who cares. Let Andrew do something for a change. Let Nathaniel show a little leadership here.”

Whether or not they were tempted to do that, I’m glad they didn’t quit. That would have been tragic. You see, we know something they didn’t. We know that the Father was watching. Mary and Mary thought they were alone, but they weren’t.

They thought their journey was unnoticed. But they were wrong. God knew. He was watching them walk up the mountain. He was measuring their steps. He was smiling at their hearts, and thrilled at their devotion. And he had a surprise waiting for them.

At that time there was a strong earthquake. An angel of the Lord came down from heaven, went to the tomb, and rolled the stone away from the entrance. Then he sat on the stone. He was shining bright as lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The soldiers guarding the tomb shook with fear because of the angel, and they became like dead men.
Matthew 28:2-4

Now, read it again carefully because this is what I noticed. Tell me, why did the angel move the stone? Hmmm? For whom did he roll that rock away?

For Jesus? Well, that’s what I always thought. I just kind of assumed that the angel moved the stone so Jesus could come out. But think about that. Did the stone have to be removed in order for Jesus to exit? Did God have to have help? Was the death conqueror so weak that he couldn’t push the rock away? (“Hey, could somebody out there move this rock so I can get out?”) Really?

I don’t think so, because the text gives the impression that Jesus was already out when the stone was moved. Nowhere do the Gospels say that the angel moved the stone for Jesus. So, if that’s true, for whom, then, was the stone moved? Listen to what the angel says: “Come and see the place where his body was.” (v. 6)

The stone was moved — not for Jesus — but for the women; not so Jesus could come out, but so the women could see in. And Mary looks at Mary and Mary is grinning the same grin she had when the bread and fish kept coming out of the basket. The old passions begin to flare. Suddenly it’s all right to dream again. “Go quickly and tell his followers, ‘Jesus has risen from the dead. He is going into Galilee ahead of you, and you will see him there.’” (v. 7)

And Mary and Mary didn’t have to be told twice. They turn and start running to Jerusalem. The darkness is gone. The sun is up. The Son is out. But the Son isn’t finished. Because there’s still one surprise that awaits them.

“Suddenly, Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings.’ The women came up to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid. Go and tell my followers to go on to Galilee, and they will see me there.’” (v. 9—10)

You see, the God of surprises strikes again. It’s as if he said, “I can’t wait any longer. They came this far to see me; I think I’ll drop in on them and say ‘hey.’” And God does that for the faithful. Because just when the womb was too old for babies, Sarai got pregnant. Just when the failure was too great for grace, David was pardoned. And just when the road was too dark for Mary and Mary, the angel glowed and the Savior showed, and the two women would never be the same again.

The lesson here? One word: persevere.

Don’t give up.

Is the trail dark? Don’t sit.

Is the road long? Don’t stop.

Is the night black? Don’t quit.

God is watching. For all you know, right at this very moment, he may be telling the angel to move the stone. You know …

The check may be in the mail.

The apology may be in the making.

The job contract may be on the desk.

So, persevere. Don’t quit. Because if you do, you may just miss the answer to your prayers.

God still sends angels, you know. And God still moves stones.

Grace,

Randy