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 quicly 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." (Matthew 28:2-7)
Have you ever
read a story you think you know, and then read it again and see something
you’ve never seen before? It’s like reading about the same event a hundred times
and then, on the 101st reading, see something so striking, something
so new that it makes you wonder if you slept through the other hundred times? 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. I’ve read the resurrection story at
least a half century of Easters, and probably 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? 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? I don’t think so, because the text gives
the impression that Jesus was already out when the stone was moved. “He’s not
here,” the angel said.
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 I’m assuming
that at that moment 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: persist.
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 perhaps the stone in your life. 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, persist. 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,
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