FEATURE STORY
It’s really a huge thing that the stone was rolled away and the two gleaming figures told the women, “He is not here,” relaying to them the fact that they would not find Jesus among the dead. And yet, most of us live as though we think the One who died for us is still there…inactive, not breathing, not listening and certainly not near us when we need him. And while we may scoff at these women for showing up at the graveside of Jesus when he clearly told them he wouldn’t be there…we do the same thing every single day.
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We often awake in total panic and fear over circumstances and unanswered prayer. Maybe I should change the pronoun here and make it personal. I do this. I get up and get dressed and head out for the day looking for Jesus in my life but living as though he’s still laying in the tomb, immovable. I cry a few tears over a loss in my life and wonder why the loss occurred, and then chalk it up to a disinterested God. A God in the tomb of the dead.
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We often pray long heartfelt prayers but feel no better once we’re done, but rather exhausted and weary. Maybe I should change the pronoun again and say that I do this. I make my list, I check it twice, and I present it to Him, with no parenthesis of thanksgiving or truth, but rather a spillage of the doom and gloom. I sit in the tomb and see that he’s not there, but where is he? I just don’t know. And yet, he’s told me he hears, listens and moves on my behalf. But I’m looking for him in the tomb of the dead.
We often feel totally alone in this dark world that closes in with lies and fear and all of its taking and not giving and wonder and ponder. Maybe I should change this again to myself and my story, because I do this. I can turn my eyes to what’s in front of me and around me, what lurks in the shadows and in the uncertain future, and I can become listless and hopeless in a few minutes flat. I can’t see him because I’ve entered the dark place where he said he wouldn’t be, and yet I’ve forgotten. I’m still peering into the tomb of the dead.
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Does all of this sound foreboding and unreal? It’s anything but real, and the reality of Jesus not being in that tomb among the dead is a game changer for all of us! For me personally, and for you. And it changes where we go daily, where our thoughts land nightly, and where our steps lead us and how light or heavy those steps will be.
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Any time we entertain any of those thoughts mentioned above that our living God isn’t among us anymore, that he’s turned a deaf ear, or he’s inactive in our lives because of something we’ve done or because he just doesn’t care and isn’t really good…we’ve placed him right back in the tomb, bound in grave clothes, sealed shut with us on the outside begging to get inside and wake him up.
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“He is not here.” We need to hear it again this Easter season. In fact, it’s the topic of the family devo in THYME this month as well, because our kids need to hear it. If we don’t rehearse this truth, we will find ourselves right beside those women and the others that ran to the tomb looking for Jesus, instead of walking the streets expecting him to show up – because he said he would! Imagine living a life beside an empty tomb, instead of walking and skipping daily beside a risen Lord!
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I love Easter with all the fun activities with the kids, I enjoy singing songs about the risen Savior and the hope he brings, and I love the fact that Jesus loved me enough to die for my sins and erase that shame and offer me eternal life. But do I love the fact that this same Jesus is alive and well and that he’s not there among the dead? He’s here present among the living, right where I am, today.
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I don’t know if the women and the men ran to the tomb looking for Jesus there to pay their respects and condolences, or if they truly expected to find him still laying there bound up in grave clothes. I’m thinking the latter took over their minds and their expectations, and it’s why some didn’t even recognize him when he did show up on the road the next day.
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I don’t want to miss Him in my daily life because I’m stuck in what Jesus did in his death, but not fully aware of what it means that he’s alive, and “he is not here,” among those who cannot rise to give aid, lean in to listen, and move in mighty ways that we can see and participate in.
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What are you doing this Easter season? Eggs and hunts and food and church services? And where are you going the morning after Easter is over? To the tomb in sorrow, wishing your Lord was alive, or entering a new week expecting to see him as you walk and go about your day, knowing that what he says he does? He said he’d awaken and he did, and he does.
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All other gods are still among the dead where the grave holds them tight. But “he is not here” is the truth that rings loud in our ears and awakens our hearts to see the God who walks among us, with a mighty arm that conquers even death, of the most horrific kind.