Passionate Voices – Sunday Resurrection

John

As I look at him now, I do not understand but I do believe.

I have been thinking about that first day at the nets since Friday.  He simply said ‘follow me’ – I’d heard and seen enough to know that was not an invite to turn down.  Then he touched lepers and they walked away clean, he spat on the blind and they saw, he spoke to demons and they fled, he walked on Galilee’s waters and ordered the winds to be still, his words even raised the lifeless back to the the land of the living.  His authority stretched from the heavens to the depths of Sheol.

Then I saw him give himself to the Roman guards in the garden, I witnessed his submission to the unlawful Sanhedrin, watched as he took beatings and lies – my heart is as melted wax to think of it still. Silent and humble – he could have called down heaven’s fury for their insults, but under their insults, whips and nails he took furious condemnation.  His lifeless body, broken, bloodied, wrapped in cloth and hidden in a tomb.  I wept no less than I would have wept had my own father  died.

Now here he is in front of me: in a room locked to prevent surprise visitors, he stands and blesses us with peace.  His body healed but his skin yet wounded – unrecognisable from the tangled form I last saw. He walked from the tomb, sent the women, Magdalene most, to be the heralds of the great news.  Myself, in the tomb I believed him to be the Resurrection and the Life of which he spoke in Bethany – but to SEE him, to now share food with him, is beyond belief. 

I thought he would have been taken like Enoch or Elijah – flames taking Him to heaven ending his work. Now, it seems, his work has only just begun.  The Christ, and I say the Son of God – my Lord.