The stillness of Easter

There's a certain stillness of the Last Supper, His Dying, the silence of Saturday and then Sunday--the Resurrection--Easter.

Sitting outside on this beautiful Sabbath--the spring flowers are in early bloom and the wind blows gently while the bee sings praise for the first taste of sweet nectar. Everything is quiet. Everything is slow. I'm been thinking a lot these past few days about Mary Magdalene and Simon Peter and the other disciple Jesus loved--rushing to the sepulchre and seeing the stone rolled away. There they found an empty tomb. And Simon Peter and the other disciple went back to their homes. Maybe distraught--nervous--uncertainty, grief. Their choice to hide in the seclusion of their own homes. But Mary Magdalene, she chose to stay a little longer in the stillness of the Empty Tomb, in her own grief. Weeping.


And the angels ask Mary, why are you crying?

He speaks to her and she believes He is the gardener, but when He calls her by name--she knows. He is none other than Rabboni! Jesus!


Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that He had spoke these things unto her. John 20:18


And I wonder--did Simon Peter and the other disciple think to themselves, I wished I had stayed a little longer. In the stillness. Waiting.


My oldest grandson took part in his first communion service today. He was nervous in the still of the waiting. And he smiled as he finished his cup of juice. Remembering Jesus.


Let us remember the gracious never ending, never failing love of Jesus. And let us linger a little longer in the stillness of Him. He is present. He is alive! He is risen!





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