As the dawn breaks and the mocking birds sing one last chorus of praise in the night; the morning breeze brushes your cheek and the scent of wisteria mixed with just a hint of yellow jasmine comes to you on the air. The mockers grow silent as a menagerie of their fellows take up the chorus. Spring is in the air, and new life is on the move.
Newborn leaves rustle ever so gently on morning’s breath, and beneath them the wild azaleas flash crimson and purple as the shadows dance around them. Lilies and jonquils, just waking from their winter’s rest, sport jackets of pollen, the miracle that contains the promise of generations to come, the promise of life.
The faint blue line to the east that heralds the coming of the dawn brightens and slowly transforms into a pleasing golden glow as the sky awaits the arrival of its honored guest.
The morning clouds, once ominous in the night, go from deep blue, to pinkish purple, to the brilliant gold of welcome as the sun inches its way to the horizon. Then in an instant, those lovely clouds fade to insignificance as the sun appears; first a hint, then a sliver, and then radiance fills the sky.
With that radiance comes the beginning of warmth, and with that warmth, creation begins to stir. There is a quiet, an almost imperceptible rustling to your left. A field mouse, or perhaps a tiny shrew quietly seeking a place to rest; and your eyes, being drawn to the sound, are captured by the brilliance of the morning dew on the grass: a million diamonds glistening in the morning light, dazzle your eyes.
Your eyes, awash with tears, don’t see him at first. The tears and the brilliance of the morning light combine to blind you; but as sight slowly returns, you see the shadow of a man before you. There is something strangely familiar about him, but you disregard that. You don’t know anyone around here. That being said, he might have answers to your questions; questions that must be answered; questions that seem to be beating out of your chest.
So without pretense or pause, you demand:
“Where is He? What have you done with Him? Where have you taken the body of my Lord?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and his silence is maddening. Is he a phantom, or is he flesh and blood?
As you watch his breath hang white and suspended in morning air and then fall and fade to nothing you think, “flesh and blood it is.” Yes, he is real.
Finally he says:
“Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Doesn’t he know? I mean how many other empty tombs are there around here? So once again you ask, with more urgency and a hint of anger in your voice.
“Jesus of Nazareth, of course. So where is He? What have you done with Him?”
At that moment, the birds fall silent. The wind stands still. Even the brilliant morning sun is subdued with expectation.
All of nature quietly waits. The universe anticipates the words yet to come. All of creation yearns to hear them.
“Mary.”
“Mary, don’t be afraid. It’s just me.”
“I have risen!”
And so life begins.
As Easter morning approaches, remember that no matter how dark the night, with the morning comes the Light.
Life can be frightening and confusing and difficult to bear sometimes, but remember that our God, our Savior Jesus Christ, has mastered and defeated death. When He stepped from the tomb on Resurrection Morning, the shackles of sin fell away and eternal life was born.
When fear threatens your peace, remember that our God is God and be comforted. God is near.
Tony Rowell
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