I wake up with chest tight and soul heavy. My stomach is in a knot and I don't know if it's because I stayed up too late last night, because school starts tomorrow, or maybe because of some tension in the house. I feel wary and on guard as I come downstairs. I get my coffee and sit on the sofa. My hand reaches towards my Bible and picks up the soft leather. Flipping through the pages with the worn gilded edges I pull out the flashcard bookmarking Matthew 28, and I read.
"I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.
He is not here; He has risen, just as He said.
Come and see the place where He lay."
The women hurried...afraid yet filled with joy.
Suddenly Jesus met them...They came to Him, clasped His feet and worshiped Him...
My imagination sees the women crying-laughing their tears slipping over their smiling lips. They cling to Him, holding tight to Him, falling face down, kissing His feet. He pulls them up and wipes away the tears on their checks with His thumb, laughing with them. I can't imagine that their whole encounter was as short as it is described in Matthew. I imagine the women were talking as quickly as they could form the words with their tongues. Trying to tell Him their thoughts and feelings and actions over the last two days. Trying to tell Him exactly what happened. I imagine He smiled and nodded and understood. This scene of outrageous love fills my empty heart. Because He loves me like that. Thumb-brushing-away-tears kind of love. That's how He loves all of us. Me. You. All.
...Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.
"All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me.
And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
Eleven men mouths open, hands timidly reaching to touch the fresh wounds on His hands. The flesh on His hands, feet, and head still ripped, red, delicate, loosely hanging. Hearts pounding. Breath short. Falling to their knees.
"Jesus..."
