Monday, April 4, 2016

entering the tomb

I think about her weeping at the empty tomb. Because haven't we all been there? Have we not all been so consumed by unimaginable sorrow that all we see is nothing?  I think about her a lot.  I picture her on her knees, face wet with tears, crying out, "Where is my God?"

Have we not all cried that out, at one time or another?

And what gets me is this. HE WAS THERE.
He was right there.
But she was blinded by a grief so large that it wiped away all hope.
It removed Him from the picture.
Angels could not even convince her that something amazing was happening.

Not until He called by her name did she notice Him.

If only she had taken that one step further-one more step into the tomb-one more step into the nothingness-one more step into the hurt and the doubt; just one more step, and she would have seen and known.

I can see myself next to her, you know.
Wondering, "Where is my God?"

And it is right here, in this place, that we are moved.
We need not to sit by the tomb, but rather, to enter into it.
And it is scary.
And it feels lonely.
But it is where He calls us to go.

And here He calls us by name.
He opens our eyes.
And we see that the nothingness we feared entering is actually the everything we long for.