The last few days had brought nothing to celebrate.
The Jews could celebrate -- Jesus was out of the way.
The soldiers could celebrate -- their work was done.
But Mary couldn't celebrate. To her the last few days had brought nothing but tragedy.
Mary had been there. She had heard the leaders clamor for Jesus' blood. She had witnessed the Roman whip rip the skin off his back. She had winced as the thorns sliced his brow and wept at the weight of the cross.
In the early morning mist she arises from her mat, takes her spices and aloes and leaves her house, past the Gate of Gennath and up to the hillside.
She anticipates a somber task. By now the body will be swollen. His face will be white. Death's odor will be pungent.
A gray sky gives way to gold as she walks up the narrow trail. As she rounds the final bend, she gasps.
The rock in front of the grave is pushed back.
"Someone took the body." She runs to awaken Peter and John. They rush to see for themselves. She tries to keep up with them but can't.
Peter comes out of the tomb bewildered and John comes out believing, but Mary just sits in front of it weeping. The two men go home and leave her alone with her grief.
But something tells her she is not alone. Maybe she hears a noise. Maybe she hears a whisper. Or maybe she just hears her own heart tell her to take a look for herself.
"Why are you crying?"
"They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where they have put him."
She still calls him "my Lord." As far as she knows his lips are silent. As far as she knows his body has been carted off by grave robbers. But in spite of it all, he is still her Lord.
Such devotion moves Jesus. It moves him closer to her. She turns and there he stands. She thinks he is the gardener.
Now Jesus could have revealed himself at this point. He could have called for an angel to present him or a band to announce his presence. But he didn't.
He doesn't leave her wondering for long, just long enough to remind us that he loves to surprise us. He waits for us to despair of human strength and then intervenes with heavenly. God waits for us to give up and then -- surprise!
Has it been a while since you let God surprise you?
It's easy to reach the point where we have God figured out.
We know exactly what God does. We break the code. We chart his tendencies. God is a computer. If we push all the right buttons and insert the right data, God is exactly who we thought he was.
Have you got God figured out?
If so, then listen. Listen to God's surprises.
Hear the rocks meant for the adulterous woman drop to the ground.
Listen as Jesus invites a death row convict to ride with him to the kingdom in the front seat of the limo.
Listen as the Messiah whispers to the Samaritan woman, "I who speak to you am he."
Listen to the widow from Nain eating dinner with her son who is supposed to be dead.
And listen to the surprise as Mary's name is spoken by a man she loved -- a man she had buried.
"Miriam."
"Miriam," he said softly. "Surprise!"
When she heard her name she responded correctly. She worshiped him.
The scene has all the elements of a surprise party -- secrecy, wide eyes, amazement, gratitude.
But the celebration is mild in comparison with the one that is being planned for the future.
It will be similar to Mary's, but a lot bigger.
Many more graves will open. Many more names will be called. Many more knees will bow. And many more seekers will celebrate.
It's going to be some party! I want to make sure my name is on the guest list.
How about you?
No eye has seen, no ear has heard,
No mind has conceived
what God has prepared for those who love him
--1 Corinthians 2:9
-- From Six Hours One Friday, by Max Lucado, Chapter 18.
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