I can't see his face
through the tears.It's blood stained, broken
I know.
I don't recognize my Lord and my friend.
I have no more tears.
I am spent, numb.
There is nothing left
of his life, or mine
except this ragged cloth
with which he wiped his face.
The blood has hardened,
the dirt dried,
but it has become my most precious treasure.
I hold it
and breathe in the memory
of the good times,
the healings,
and outrageous outpourings
of miraculous grace
that flowed out of him
those three full years.
Full of so much promise,
excitement, power, wonder,
compassion, love.
Love.
That is what I'm left with.
His love.
It made me complete,
healed, restored.
No longer judged and dirty,
a social leper, a society outcast.
He gave me dignity, purpose.
He restored my name to me,
who I really am.
I will go to the tomb today
to anoint his body.
My last act of love
given in return.
I will ask the gardener to help me
roll away the stone.
There he is.
The Gospel of John tells us how Mary Magdalene went to the tomb early in the morning, and saw that the stone had been taken away. She turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. She supposed he was the gardener, and asked him to tell her if and where he had taken Jesus' body. Jesus said to her, "Mary!" He commissioned her to tell the other disciples about His ascending to God the Father. Mary had an unexpected amazing encounter with her risen Lord.
ReplyDeleteWhat a morning!
Jesus is risen! He is risen indeed!