I lay on my mat.
It was no use.
The restlessness, the hopelessness drove me to my knees. "Adonai!" I slammed my fists on the ground and screamed to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
"My people have looked for Messiah and I was sure Jesus of Nazareth was the One!"
Thoughts of Mary his mother, ran through my mind. "He will rise again." Even though she was clearly heartbroken, she seemed to believe her words, the words he told her.
But, how? How could he raise himself from the dead? Why did he have to die? He was the Messiah. The soldiers mocked him, and said, "If you're the Messiah, why don't you save yourself!" Why didn't he? He raised Lazarus from the dead, that was true. But, to raise oneself from the dead? I did not understand how that would be possible.
I hid behind a row of bushes in my nauseated state. I was sick from grief, and I continued to wrestle with despair. How could this be true? How could Jesus be dead?
I wandered on the path to the tomb. I had to be near him, even if it was at the tomb where he lay.
I was jolted from my thoughts when two women ran up the path, almost knocking me over. as they rushed toward me.
They grabbed my shoulders as they shouted. "We saw him!"
They were breathless. Their faces were radiant, yet stained with tears as they continued.
"We saw him! Jesus! He is alive!"
I held on to one of the women. I struggled to get words out. "What do you mean, you saw him?"
"We went to the tomb to anoint his body, and the stone was rolled away! We walked in and his body was gone!"
Anyone who was there knew there was no way anyone could roll the stone away.
"Are you sure you are not deluded in grief?"
"We are sure," they both shouted at the same time. "We left the tomb, heartsick. Then, we saw him! He came to us! He spoke to us!"
"We are going to tell the others!" They ran off, as if they hadn't heard anything I said. If they did, my words didn't sway them.
I heard laughing and shouts of praise as they danced and ran down the path.
My head was spinning as I leaned against a nearby olive tree.
"Are you ok?" I saw the shadow of a man behind the tree.
"Yes. I am," I nodded.
"You don't seem ok," the man said.
I chuckled even though I wanted to cry, wanted to yell at him. How could he not know about Jesus?
"It is my Master. He was innocent. They killed him...my own people killed him. I don't know what I'm going to do without him." My body shook as I held back sobs.
"It was a very dark day," he said.
"Yes, it was. It was the worst day of my life. I watched. I didn't try to save him. I failed the man who loved me most. How can I go on? Time will never be the same." I shook my fist in the air. "I don't understand any of this. Then, these women came screaming up the path, saying such cruel words."
"What did they say?" The man asked.
I snickered. "They said they saw him. Isn't it enough that he is dead? Now these women are making a mockery of my Lord, Jesus of Nazareth, who I love."
"I see. That would seem cruel, " he said. "You are very confused."
"Yes. Yes, I am. Confused. Lost. Alone." I bent my head and tears came.
The man was silent for a minute.
He walked out from the shadow of the branches.
"It's ok. You are not lost. You are not alone. My mother spoke to you and said her son would rise again. She told you the truth."
At the sound of his voice, I looked at him.
Such splendor, and glory radiated from his whole being, that I fell to my knees and beheld my Master.
I saw the holes where the nails had been driven just days earlier.
"Master! Master!" Tears streamed down my face as I beheld Jesus Christ of Nazareth.
"It is you. It is true. You are alive!"
"I AM," he said.
Nothing mattered at that moment. My guilt, shame, sorrow and defeat were gone.
My Master lives!
I've got to tell somebody!
"You must tell everybody," he said as he smiled at me.
He laughed and as I blinked, he was gone.
I ran to catch up with the women.
"He's alive! He's alive! Just as he said! My Messiah lives!"
"He is alive!"
Copyright 2021.Diane Homm
