Monday, April 21, 2014

Early in the Morning

 

[Painting of the empty tomb on Resurrection morning]


If I give you the first line of some familiar stories, let’s see how many you can name:

  1. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

  2. “Call me Ishmael.”

How about a more modern one?

  1. “I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there’s gum in my hair.”

One more:

  1. “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark…”

This last one, a verse of Scripture, especially struck me one Easter as I staggered into the shower at 5:30 a.m. It was another Easter and it was still dark. As I showered, I thought of all those Easter mornings: dressing in new finery, eating a hearty breakfast, or at least having a brisk cup of coffee, and then heading out to a Sunrise Service for a celebration. But, this wasn’t what Mary Magdalene and the other Mary experienced.

Maybe you can recall some “early morning” events that resembled more the mood of these women. The task before them sprung from deep sorrow and a need to do something deliberate, though unpleasant.

They probably threw on their clothes and skipped their usual breakfast patterns that morning—much like we do on mornings when we have to rush out with the garbage bins before the truck comes, or when we have to sleepily drive to the airport for an early flight, or when we hurry to get to the hospital for an unpleasant procedure.

The women came to the Tomb out of deep love and duty, with spirits depressed and terribly disappointed. They came to the Garden devastated by loss. They may not have slept, or done so fitfully. What they found, they certainly hadn’t expected.

I’ll let Max Lucado tell his version of the rest of the story from John 20:1-18. 1

It isn’t hope that leads the women up the mountain to the tomb. It is duty. Naked devotion. They expect nothing in return…

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 healed lepers are nowhere to be seen. So the two Marys decide to do it.

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

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

Why did the angel move the stone? For whom did he roll away the rock?..The stone was moved—not for Jesus—but for the women; not so Jesus could come out, but so the women could see in!

‘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.’

Mary and Mary don’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.

One surprise still 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. God and tell my followers to go on to Galilee, and they will see me there.”

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’m going to drop in on them.’

God does that for the faithful. Just when the womb gets too old for babies, Sarai gets pregnant. Just when the failure is too great for grace, David is pardoned. And just when the road is too dark for Mary and Mary, the angel glows and the Savior shows and the two women will never be the same.

The lesson? Three words. “Don’t give up.”

Is the trial 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 moment he may be telling the angel to move the stone.

The check may be in the mail.
The apology may be in the making.
The job contract may be on the desk.

Don’t quit. For if you do, you may miss the answer to your prayers.

God still sends angels. “And God still moves stones.”

 

Oh, yes. The answers to the questions at the beginning of this blog post:

  1. A Tale of Two Cities—Charles Dickens

  2. Moby Dick—Herman Melville

  3. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day—Judith Viorst

  4. John 20:1

______________________

1 from Lucado, Max. He Still Moves Stones. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson. ©1993, 1999.

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment