The First Easter by K. Denise Holmberg
“Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken him.” My voice broke like my heart. I wiped my burning eyes and runny nose on my scarf. “If you know where they put him, please tell me so I may go to him.”
The massive stone that had covered the entrance to his tomb had been rolled aside. The Roman seal
was broken and the guards were gone. I bent over and looked inside. The air was stale and had the earthy scent of myrrh. At least it was not rank with the terrible smell of death.
Two figures in white sat where his body has been three days before. One sat at the head of the cold stone slab, the other at the foot. Between them lay strips of linen stained dark brown from old blood. Separate from the linens, and neatly folded, was the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. I had watched as Nicodemus wrapped him in it.
I stared at the cloth. How strange that someone would steal his body, yet take the time to fold it instead of just casting it to the side. Then tears found me again and I moaned and wept
“Who is it you are looking for?” A tender voice said.
I turned around. A man, I thought was the caretaker, stood not far from me. I had not heard him approach. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where and I will get him. He belongs here, in this tomb.”
“No, Mary,” he said gently. “I am a great despiser of death.”
His eyes were warm and playful. I recognized them immediately. They were the eyes that found me in beautiful Galilee, near the lake. For a moment I could see that fruitful land filled with palm trees, olives, figs, and grape vines. I imagined the good temper of the air as the breeze off the sea cooled and tamed it.
I had been suffering from demonic influences, having no less than seven demons that tortured my spirit. My misery was severe.
My family in Magdala had means and influence, and could call upon the best physicians in the land. But not one of them could help.
I was deranged. My mind as disheveled as my hair, stormy as my eyes, hollow as my cheeks.
Jesus shouted the words, “Back! Back to your native hell, ye foul spirits of the pit.”
I was free. My wits were my own again. Warmth radiated throughout my body. I felt awake for the first time in years. Deeply grateful, I devoted my life to him. He had saved me from hell. I would follow him to the ends of the earth.
“Teacher!” I now screamed and reached out to touch him, to see if he really stood before me breathing.
Jesus took a step back. “You cannot hold on to me. I have not yet returned to our Father.”
I could see the fresh wounds in his hands and feet from the nails they used to pin him to the cross. The skin on his forehead was broken from the crown of thorns they had pressed into it. His tunic was bloody from where they pierced him in the side.
He smiled at me. “Dear Mary, I knew you would be the first I would reveal myself to. You ministered to me while I ministered to others. Quietly doing what needed to be done without complaint, without concern for your own comfort. You never deserted me and I will never desert you or forsake you. Go now and tell the others. Soon I will come and stand before them too.”
I ran to the disciples light and breathless. I felt like I was floating. “I have seen the Lord! He has risen!”
I raised my palms to the sky and looked up. My heart was full. “He has risen indeed!”
Happy Easter! He is risen! He is risen indeed!
Blessings!
KDH
The massive stone that had covered the entrance to his tomb had been rolled aside. The Roman seal
Two figures in white sat where his body has been three days before. One sat at the head of the cold stone slab, the other at the foot. Between them lay strips of linen stained dark brown from old blood. Separate from the linens, and neatly folded, was the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. I had watched as Nicodemus wrapped him in it.
I stared at the cloth. How strange that someone would steal his body, yet take the time to fold it instead of just casting it to the side. Then tears found me again and I moaned and wept
“Who is it you are looking for?” A tender voice said.
I turned around. A man, I thought was the caretaker, stood not far from me. I had not heard him approach. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where and I will get him. He belongs here, in this tomb.”
“No, Mary,” he said gently. “I am a great despiser of death.”
I had been suffering from demonic influences, having no less than seven demons that tortured my spirit. My misery was severe.
My family in Magdala had means and influence, and could call upon the best physicians in the land. But not one of them could help.
I was deranged. My mind as disheveled as my hair, stormy as my eyes, hollow as my cheeks.
Jesus shouted the words, “Back! Back to your native hell, ye foul spirits of the pit.”
I was free. My wits were my own again. Warmth radiated throughout my body. I felt awake for the first time in years. Deeply grateful, I devoted my life to him. He had saved me from hell. I would follow him to the ends of the earth.
“Teacher!” I now screamed and reached out to touch him, to see if he really stood before me breathing.
Jesus took a step back. “You cannot hold on to me. I have not yet returned to our Father.”
He smiled at me. “Dear Mary, I knew you would be the first I would reveal myself to. You ministered to me while I ministered to others. Quietly doing what needed to be done without complaint, without concern for your own comfort. You never deserted me and I will never desert you or forsake you. Go now and tell the others. Soon I will come and stand before them too.”
I ran to the disciples light and breathless. I felt like I was floating. “I have seen the Lord! He has risen!”
I raised my palms to the sky and looked up. My heart was full. “He has risen indeed!”
Happy Easter! He is risen! He is risen indeed!
Blessings!
KDH
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