I believe
that the connection between the cross and the empty tomb is sometimes
lost. The power of my Master is not demonstrated
on the cross as much as His determination to save His human creatures. He showed the extent of His love and mercy
there, but He showed His power through the empty tomb.
On the other
hand, the empty tomb is not really appreciated until the extent of my Master’s
love is explored over and over as demonstrated on the cross. So, I need both, and I need to appreciate
them in order. I need a focus and meditation
on the Cross of Jesus so I can better appreciate the empty tomb. Yesterday I was crushed by my meditation on
the Cross of my Master. Today I want to
pause at the empty tomb.
The shock
experienced by creation was then followed by such deep oppressive despair that
it seemed there was no recovery. Hope
died with the Master on the cross. Sure,
all the sins of all of humanity were paid in that event, but now there was this
gaping wound that is always left by death.
Death is relational, just like life is relational. The Spirit could have come then and there
would have been a revival of sorts, but there would have been this sense of a
hollow victory. Death would still have
reigned supreme, even over the Creator.
And there was something about that which would not settle in the hearts
of the disciples, and not in creation.
The debate
over three days is odd to me. Any part
of a day includes that day. We do that
now. We don’t measure it down to
complete sets of 24 hours until we want to disprove something. In normal usage, we just go with any part of
a day. So, Friday evening, and through
Saturday, a doubly intense Sabbath, there was silence. I imagine the silence to be dark silence, not
bright silence. I imagine an oppressive
air where no one, not even Jesus’ enemies, felt light. I suspect that there would have been such an
air of hopelessness that it would have been as all life had stopped, as if in a
moment of silent grief. A day where
silence permeates to the bones, and into the soul, chill and dark; that’s how I
imagine that Sabbath day.
Part of this
oppressive sense of hopelessness comes from the Creator Himself. The unthinkable has happened; God has
suffered the loss of The Son! The Creator
has lost the Uncreated One. The Three
are somehow Two. The fundamental truth
of the Source of the universe and all that holds it together has fractured and
a piece is missing. It is
impossible. It cannot happen. It can’t!
How? The crushing question is
why, but now in the aftermath, even that answer seems lost in the echo of the
darkness left behind. Is this love? Is this mercy? The hole left in my heart from losing my
father is nothing compared to the loss incurred by the Creator and His creation
at the loss of the Son. This Saturday is
one of grief from the One and Only God right down to the infinitesimally small sub-atomic
particle. It is grief on a cosmic
scale. It crushes the world and the
cosmos.
And then the
unthinkable, unimaginable, shattering power of the Creator of the universe and
all it contains totally annihilates the enemy that is death itself. Light overwhelms the darkness, and shatters
the grief spreading shards to the uttermost ends of creation. Each shard carries the sound of the truth: HE
IS RISEN! Life sweeps out from that
central point on the spinning blue globe and life stirs once again. Creation takes a deep breath, not realizing
it has been holding its breath, gasping for the life of the Son. Joy so radiant in the darkness of grief that
few dared hope it was true swept through the lives of 200 gathered together,
and the ripples of that joy continued into Samaria, Judea, and all the ends of
the earth.
Life, real
life, returned from the grave of despair.
And this is the eternal life that they might know You the One True God
and Whom You sent Jesus Christ. I can
know my Master now, I can speak with Him, listen to Him, seek His face, and
worship Him. But one day I will run with
Him in the fields of Heaven! I will
worship before His throne! I will see
Him face to face, serve Him in His presence, and I will be who He truly made me
to be. He will give me a new name, and I
will know His. Then I will run and not
be weary, walk and not faint. I will
fly, but only for the joy of my Master.
And all the joy of life will make up the air I breathe and the ground
beneath my feet. And I am not alone in
this, but one of an unnumbered crowd all together in worship and joy; the voice
of which will shake remaining debris of this life off like dust. We will stand completely clean and whole
before the Conqueror of death, Giver of eternal life. And we will do so forever.
That is what
the empty grave means to me.
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