Lent Pilgrimage Week 7

A group of friends trudge up the winding path in the dismal light of dawn. Their destination is an opening on the side of the hill. Three days before they saw the dead body of the man they loved laid in this rock-hewn tomb. But now it is empty. Later they see him. The one who was dead is now alive. Not only did they see him, but as many as five hundred people saw him after he died.  

Oh, they knew he was dead when placed in the tomb because they had watched him die. They knew enough about sickness, injury, and death to know the difference between someone faint and someone dead. Soldiers whose occupation was killing and death knew he was dead as well. Taking his dead body off the cross, they bundled it like an old sack of rags at their feet. He was now theirs to do with as they wanted.

What they saw that day changed their world forever, what they saw changed our world forever. It changes everything.

Take the resurrection away and what do you have? Nothing but a good man who told nice stories, someone who lived by a virtuous code of ethics, but ultimately another failed messiah. Not someone whose followers would change our world and turn it upside down, or is it right side up? Those who saw his body alive faced danger, injury, and death. They were crucified like him, put to death by the sword, burned alive, or killed by wild animals, and they never wavered in their belief of what they had seen.

That’s what happened that Sunday. But the story did not end there, and it is still not finished. The good news is that we get to write our own chapter. What will you write in the never-ending story?

Photo by Mike Tinnion on Unsplash

Photo by Mike Tinnion on Unsplash

Photo by Lesly Juarez on Unsplash

“Rushing to him, I grabbed his hands in mine and felt his warmth, now believing I had him back again after losing him to death. His face, which I had last seen wearing the grey mask of death, was transformed like the rest of his body. Ruddy cheeks glowed, his lips flushed red, and the spark of life had returned to his eyes.”

Leaving Bethany page 128