The stone rolled away

After Mark 16:1-8 

They came to anoint

the body, unsure exactly

how to do what they

needed to do: get past 

the guards, then roll

away the stone sealing

the tomb. What were

they but three women?

The guards would laugh

to see three women

struggle to move

the stone, assuming they

would be allowed

to get that close. They

discover the work

has been done for them:

the guards are gone,

the stone rolled away,

and no body to anoint.

Christ has risen.

He has risen,

indeed. 

Photograph by Kelly Sikkema via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Rise My Soul, The Lord is Risen – Matt Papa, Matt Boswell, & Kristyn Getty

Some Sunday Readings

 

The Awkwardness of Easter – Aaron Garriott at Ligonier.

 

John Berryman’s Eleven Addresses to the Lord – Critical Readings. 

 

The day that changed the world – Matthew Roberts at The Critic Magazine.

 

The Most Radical Thing You Can Bring to Easter Dinner – Chris Castaldo at Crossway.

 

The Women at the Tomb: Clarifying the Marys and the First Witnesses of the Resurrection – Justin Taylor at The Gospel Coalition.

Truth dazzles

After Luke 24:1-12 

The messengers dazzle 

in their brightness,

their message a meteor:

He is not here,

He is risen.

It is the first proclamation

of the billions to come,

a shooting star to remind

them of what they were

told, what they heard

before, what he would do,

that he would rise.

The living is not to be

found among the dead.

You knew this.

He said this, 

that he would die,

that three days pass,

that he would rise.

The messengers dazzle

in their brightness,

the message even more.

It’s early dawn.

 

Photograph by Wonderlane via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The stone rolled away

After Luke 24:1-12 

The stone, a barrier

a separation of life

and death, the stone

is rolled away, removing

the separation, the barrier,

revealing the emptiness

within, a slab, some cloths

of linen, an emptiness,

the death of death. The body

is not here, the tomb is empty,

death is revealed as destroyed,

swept into the ash bin, forever

gone, forever defeated, Yet

another parable, a contradiction:

life to be seen and symbolized 

by emptiness, a silent tomb,

death vanquished,

death destroyed.

 

Photograph by Krisjanis Mezulis via Unsplash. Used with permission.

An empty tomb

After Luke 24:1-12 

The first day of the week,

the women return to the tomb,

bringing their spices and

ointments to prepare the body.

The stone covering the tomb

has been rolled away, leaving

the space open. The tomb is

empty, Stunned, shocked,

perplexed, the women see

the men arrayed in clothes

that dazzle and shine, telling

them not to seek the living

among the dead, that 

he is not here, 

he is risen, 

he is living,

just as he told you he would.

He kept his word.

The women are the witnesses,

the first to see an empty tomb.

The one who denied him,

three times, runs to see

for himself. What he sees:

only the strips of linen

remain.

 

Photograph by Nicolas Hans via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The tomb cut in stone

After Luke 23:50-56 

A new tomb, cut in stone,

previously unoccupied,

a clean and silent place,

is the site they bring

the body, taken down

and wrapped in linen

strips, to prepare 

for burial. The women

came and saw the body

taken to the tomb, so

they would know where

to come with the spices

and ointments after

the day of rest. 

They made note 

of the place, the tomb,

the place to return

for final preparation,

the final ritual of life,

the preparation for

burial and sealing

of the stone.

 

Photograph by Kiwi Thompson via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Saturday silence

After Mark 15:42-47

It is not the nothing day,

although it’s common 

to think of it as that,

a bridge between

the Friday of death

and the Sunday of life.

But it is preparation day,

actually, the time to be

used to prepare for Sabbath.

The body is sought.

The body is granted,

The body is taken down.

The body is wrapped in linen.

The body is taken to the tomb.

The body is placed there.

The stone is rolled to seal the tomb.

The body is left in darkness.

It is the day of preparation.

It is the day before Sabbath.

It is the day they hide themselves away,

the day they tremble in fear,

the day they expect the pounding

on the door, the day their fate

becomes what his has been.

But it is not that day, yet.

It is the day of preparation,

and the Sabbath comes.

Photograph by Maithilee Shetty via Unsplash. Used with permission.

An empty place

After Matthew 26:26-35

What did it look like,

this empty place, designed

as an end but instead

became a beginning?

What did it look like,

these walls of stone

carved from the hill?

Was the stone cold, or warm,

was it dusty with flakes

of rock, stony remains?

Was it cold with death’s

dampness? Did it smell,

this place created as

a final repose?

Were the strips of cloth

scattered or gathered

neatly, was a shroud

left behind, stained

with the likeness

of its wearer?

Did the glow of change

remain, could the shadow

of eyes opening, heart

beating, first movements

of arms and legs be felt, 

be sensed or contained

as a memory?

What was it like

to see the place

and stumble like

a drunkard,

the reality of emptiness

crushing the shock

of a body disappeared?

What was it like

to see nothing and 

see everything?

Photograph by Simon Wood via Unsplash. Used with permission.