Sunday is Easter, my favorite holiday! It creates all sorts of mixed feelings inside of me.
Reading the stories leading up to Jesus' crucifixion, I think, "why? why would any one go through with that, for us, for me?"
Today, I was reading about Jesus' trial. The "witnesses" that the religious leaders brought to testify against Jesus couldn't get their stories right, they all contradicted each other. But Jesus didn't say a word, not until they asked him if he was the Messiah. I think that if he had said something before this point he could have stopped himself from being killed (although he could have done that at any moment, but chose not to). But once he said, "I AM," he was too far to turn back.
And then reading about all the beatings and mockery that Jesus endured, it's painful to listen to. It's even more painful to watch a depiction of it in the movie "The Passion of the Christ." I can't imagine being one of Jesus' disciples or his mother and watching all this happen.
And the days in between when Jesus died and when he was raised back to life must have been torture. Waiting for something to happen, for someone to say something that would ease the pain. Not knowing what to do next, he was dead. People don't normally bring themselves back to life when they're dead. It was a hopeless, empty time that seemed so dark.
And then the morning of the resurrection dawned. I can imagine it. It was a little bit cloudy on the horizon and that just made the colors so brilliant. There were flowers beginning to open their blossoms because of the warmth from the sun, the most colorful tulips and lilies you can imagine. And then the sun comes up and is so bright and blinding. But the air is cool and smells like freshly turned earth. It is beautiful beyond words, and yet you don't want to see the beauty because someone you loved has just been killed, so you keep your head down to avoid it all.
You keep walking to clear your head, thinking about all that could have been, all that Jesus said. What did he mean, was any of it true? Was he who we thought he was, but if he was why did he die? What do we do now, what do we believe? (These are the questions I would have been asking myself)
Pondering these things, you suddenly look up and realize that you are at Jesus' tomb. But why is the stone rolled off to the side like that? Wait, where is his body? Did someone take him? This can't be happening.
Then you see someone walking toward you, but again you are facing the sun and can't see who it is. You demand to know where Jesus' body is, who took it and why. The man just chuckles, which is not very humorous to you. He's not taking you seriously, so again you demand to know where the body is (adding in a few unkind words and veiled threats).
He says, "Look at me, my child. I am here."
What?! Are you hallucinating now? I know the last few days have been really stressful, but you're seeing Jesus standing in front of you... alive?
"I am here, my child. Trust me, I love you. I had to die... for you."
For me? He's really alive? But why, how?
"Go tell everyone that I am alive."
They are never going to believe this without seeing him themselves.
"That is between me and them. Go."
Well, it's worth it, he's really alive! And if they think you're crazy it doesn't matter anymore, because you know that he is alive!
This has been an account of what happened at Jesus' resurrection from my own head, just what I see happening in my mind.