Each time I open my eyes I pray that all would be made right. But each time an empty grave is all I see, a hole in the rocks, a void in the stone, a vacant tomb. Oh, if only I could fill that space. Let me craw in and sleep forever. All hope is lost and desire to live is fleeing. Why should life go on?
What evil has done this? What devil from Hell itself has wound me so? How could anyone be so possessed that they would steal the body of my friend? I called Him Lord and teacher but not just by name, I really believed He was Messiah. He really was the Son of God. I gave my life to Him. Where He went I went, when He ate I ate, when He slept I slept. At least when He died I had a stone sealed memorial to visit but now the stone is moved and the tomb lays empty. I have nothing left to hold on to, nothing left to remember. Oh, my soul is ripped in two.
Rising to my feet I stumble toward the entrance. One last look before I leave. Maybe God has heard my cry and has taken pity on me. Stooping down and peering into the eerie walls of death... My heart stops and my breath is sucked out as to my surprise, two glowing men sit in the tomb. One sits where we laid my Lords head and the other where we laid His feet. Do they mock me? Do they think this is a joke? My blood boils as they ask me, "Why are you weeping?" The only words that would form as I felt the tears stinging my eyes again were, "They have taken my Lord and I don't know where they have laid Him." Feeling as though something was approaching from behind I spun around to see the gardener. Why was he here? Had he come to cover the evidence? Anger rushed through me as I looked at him, intently watching me. I lashed out at him with all I had left in me. I shouted, "If you have taken Him tell me where He is and I will return Him, if I have to carry Him on my back!" With that I fell to the ground and wept from the inter most part of my being.
The gardener still standing over me knelt down and grabbed a hand full of dirt. Casting the dirt to the side I heard him sniff. Could this gardener be crying? Before I could raise my head I heard this man say my name, "Mary." There was something about how He said it. I had heard that voice many times before. Looking up I saw before me no gardener but a King, the King of Kings. "Teacher," I screamed as I lunged for Him. Dodging me He said, "Don't lay hold of me. For I have not gone to the Father yet. But go tell the others where I'm going and that I will return to them soon."
Like lightning I was to my feet. I felt as if I had wings on my feet as I ran down the path. The beautiful blue sky and the warmth of the sun was my focus as I ran through the garden. A song now rests on my lips and a hope settled in my heart. My Lord was dead but now He's alive, He was gone but now He is back to stay. Praise the Lord!
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