Then the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified. He is not here, for He has been raised just as He said.” (Matthew 28:5-6)
The second day, the Sabbath had come to an end. Like the day before, grey shadows of dusk blanketed the hills above Jerusalem like a dark veil. A cold wind swept across the rocky slopes as night rushed forward. Slate-colored clouds moved across the horizon, bringing a pale mist like tears from a grieving mother.
In a shallow cave on the hillside, a young orphan boy took refuge among the rocks. He shivered and pressed his body against the stone walls, wrapping a tattered shawl over his shoulders. Beyond the ridge, the glow of a campfire cast flickering shadows against the hillside. Occasionally, the silence was broken by the drunken cries of the soldiers who were huddled near the flames, standing guard. Like the boy, they had been there for two days since the day the Messiah had been buried.
The boy gazed into the indigo sky, feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks, and as he huddled against the jagged recesses of the rock, he closed his eyes and the memories of what he had seen washed over him.
The streets of Jerusalem were filled with an air of excitement that day. A spirit of joy and celebration was evident in the eyes of the hundreds who lined the road into the city. Waiting. They spoke excitedly of a Man who would soon come. One who had healed the sick and raised the dead. And through the power of God, He had fed thousands with just a few fish and loaves of bread.
This Man spoke of loving your neighbor as you would love yourself and that the meek would inherit the earth. As He neared the outskirts of the city, the spirited voices of the crowd grew louder and louder. Men and women laid strands of palm branches on the cobbled road ahead of Him.
“Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest,” they cried.
Then they saw Him coming down the road riding on the back of a young donkey. He wore a simple white robe, and his hair gleamed like strands of gold when the sunlight struck His face. As the Man and his disciples passed, many of those along the street fell to their knees in prayer and thanksgiving.
That evening, the boy lay awake in a darkened alley near the great temple on the Mount of Olives. Billowy clouds drifted slowly past the ivory glow of the moon, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Images of the Man they called Jesus flew through his mind, and he wondered, could he be the One spoken of in the scriptures? Who would free all of Israel from its bondage? As he gazed into the blackened night, he felt a stirring sense of hope deep inside him.
Then, a few days later, the horror began.
The boy was in the marketplace near the great temple when he heard excited cries of outrage. “They have taken Him!” a man shouted. “The soldiers came and have taken Him to Pilate!”
With a feeling of dread, he followed the boisterous crowd toward the governor’s palace. They waited in the streets for hours. Finally, a voice echoed across the sandstone steps with the words he would never forget. “They have released the thief, Barrabas. It will be Barrabas who will be set free!”
Upon hearing this, the boy and others around him fell to the ground and wept.
That day, the soldiers marched Jesus through the narrow streets of Jerusalem toward the hill known as Golgotha. He bore a heavy wooden cross on his shoulders, and each time He fell under its weight, the soldiers spit on Him and struck Him with their whips. The ropes slashed into His torn and bleeding flesh again and again. Each time the leather cut into His body, the boy winced as if he could feel the horrible pain cutting into his own flesh.
When He fell the third time, the boy cried out desperately for them to stop the madness, but his words went unheard amid the frenzy of the crowds. When Jesus and the soldiers reached the top of the hill, they laid Him down on the cross and pounded huge nails through His wrists and feet. As the spikes pierced flesh and bone, Jesus screamed in agony, and the voices of the crowd went suddenly silent.
After He died, they took Him down from the cross, wrapped His bleeding and beaten body in linen, and carried Him into the tomb. The boy stood among the others and watched as a huge stone was rolled over the opening of the cave where His body lay. When the entryway was finally closed, he felt a guttural pain like none he had ever felt before.
That evening, the boy stared into the cold abyss of the night until the grief that filled his heart became too much to bear, and he surrendered to the darkness.
The third day came, bringing bright sunlight that bathed the hilltops, illuminating the cave’s entrance. The boy awoke, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and stepped out from the shadows, looking down onto the city. A silver mist hovered over the sleeping town, and he walked to the crest above the tomb. On the trail below, he could see three women slowly making their way up the winding path. They carried clay jars with them, and as they drew closer, he recognized one of the women as the mother of Jesus, who had remained by His side in His final moments.
When the three reached the entrance to the tomb, one of them cried out in surprise. The massive stone that had sealed the cave’s opening had been moved. The women paused, then cautiously stepped into the tomb. The boy watched curiously from his perch above them. Minutes later, the women emerged from the cave’s darkness, crying out, “He has risen. Christ has risen from the grave!” and they embraced each other in excitement. The mother of Jesus told the others they must go back to tell His followers, and they shuffled hurriedly down the trail toward the city.
The boy watched until their bodies were like specks of dust. Then, he carefully climbed down from the ledge and made his way to the entrance of the tomb. At first, he was frightened, but something inside him pushed him into the shadows. He felt his way along the cragged stone walls until he reached the stone slab where the body had been laid. Draped across it, lay the burial cloths that His tortured body had been wrapped in.
But Jesus was not there.
He stared at the stone slab, his mind racing as he pondered what lay before him. Then he turned and followed the pale light, making his way out of the tomb into the warmth of the sun. The haze over the city had melted away, and the morning chill had been replaced with a warm, comforting breeze.
He gazed out over Jerusalem as it slowly came to life, then closed his eyes as images of the past week flashed through his mind. He remembered His triumphant entrance into the city, bringing hope and jubilation to the brokenhearted. He had watched the soldiers take His lifeless body down and wrap it in linen, ending the life of the Man he thought would be their king. The sand and stone where Jesus had faithfully carried his cross were stained with His precious blood. Blood that He had given freely. But for what reason, he wondered.
A dove, as white as the snow on the mountaintops, sailed past him, and he watched it fade into the sky, its wings flashing in the sunlight. Then the knowledge of the ‘truth’ struck him. It swept over him like a giant wave. The boy fell to his knees and yielded to tears of joy.
The Gospels differ to some degree in terms of who first came upon Jesus’ empty tomb. But in all cases, the emotions of His followers were those of disbelief, followed by overwhelming joy. Imagine. The One they believed to be the Christ who would deliver Israel had suffered a demise reserved for criminals. Then, as He foretold, He rose from the grave on the third day. For those who had doubted Him, they suddenly understood what Jesus had come to earth to do. That someday, they would sit alongside Him in heaven.
This same truth applies to all of us. Jesus’ sacrifice has given us the reward of eternal life. At the end of our journeys on earth, He waits for us. There will be no more pain. No more worries. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. He has risen!
He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed (Revelation 21:4).
