I am enormously grateful that I have never had to watch someone that I loved (or anyone for that matter) die a slow and painful death. But there are all too many people who have.
The gospels tell us that many of those who loved Jesus were watching from a distance as the horrific death of Jesus unfolded on Golgotha. It was a scene that would be seared into their minds and hearts for all of eternity.
Their sadness was overwhelming. The confusion and shock swirling through their minds paralyzing for they mourned, not only the loss of a friend, teacher, master, and son, but they mourned the loss of a dream.
Their dream: that Jesus would be the king of Israel; that he would reign more gloriously and powerfully than any king before him; that they would be in a royal palace one day, vanished as Jesus breathed his last breath and hung lifeless on the cross. How could a dead person reign? Their dream was dead.
But things aren’t always what they seem.
As sundown approached, the grief of those who loved Jesus was cut short by the call of duty. For the Jews, it was the day before the Sabbath. Preparation Day. A day spent gathering what they would need to observe a day of rest. The body of Jesus had to be taken down, prepared for burial and laid in a tomb before sundown. Much work had to be done.
Thankfully, Joseph, a secret believer in Christ and a member of the Jewish Council, stepped up to provide a place for Jesus’ body to lay. Nicodemus, who also was a member of the Jewish Council and one who came previously in secret to Jesus at night, was there to help him. Together, they made the hasty preparations and arrangements and gently wrapped his naked body and laid him in the tomb.
For the women, numb with grief, perhaps the preparations of that afternoon mercifully kept their hands busy so their minds didn’t have to fully process the events of the day. The mercy was short-lived, however, as daylight faded into the stillness of the night and the silence of Saturday.
Forced to rest and reflect, they had only time on their hands to relive in their mind’s eye the tragedy that unfolded before them. They had only time and quietness to think of the hopes they once had and the fear of the unknown.
But things aren’t always what they seem.
To make things worse, they would have gone to temple as members of the Jewish faith. They would’ve walked into the courtyard, with tables over turned and the veil torn in two, and they would listen to the very people who sought the death of Jesus teach them the very law that He fulfilled.
But things aren’t always what they seem.
I’m wondering how many people reading this are mourning the loss of a loved one. How many of you grieve over a dead dream?
Maybe you thought you’d be married by now,
or cured of your illness,
or working at a job that you love.
Maybe you thought you’d have children,
or that your spouse would’ve been faithful,
or that you would have a job by now.
But things aren’t always what they seem.
In his book, God Still Moves Stones, Max Lucado paints the most beautiful picture of hope when he writes about the experience of those who went to the tomb early on Sunday morning.
The God of surprises strikes again…God does that for the faithful. Just when the womb gets too old for babies, Sarai gets pregnant. Just when the failure is too great for grace, David is pardoned. And just when the road is too dark…the angel glows and the Savior shows…
The lesson? Three words. Don’t give up.
Is the trail dark? Don’t sit.
Is the road long? Don’t stop.
Is the night black? Don’t quit.
God is watching. For all you know right at this moment he may be telling the angel to move the stone.
The check may be in the mail.
The apology may be in the making.
The job contract may be on the desk.
Don’t quit. For if you do, you may miss the answer to your prayers.
God still sends angels. And God still moves stones.
Things aren’t always what they seem.