A tomb, but, no.. only borrowed

I like Holy Saturday. It is a tomb time.. like life, sometimes, which we know too well — but also like Lazarus’.

Yes, he was bodily dead 4 days before the voice of his dear friend Jesus broke through rock and earth and called him out by name.

Yes, like the bed-tomb of the daughter of Jairus, too. “Arise, maiden” which we know better as His “Talitha cumi,” and arise she did.

Indeed, like the young man who was *returned* to his widowed mother on the way to his burial.

And like everyone we have lost to finite humanity. We were always Meant for eternal life. And we, too, will see the Scars on Him Who may call us by name, or by “Child,” or by “Son,” or “Daughter,” or by a term of endearment He reserved to us long ago.

We will hear it as clearly as did the dead — and as did Mary weeping, until the *gardener* said her name!

He Himself was transformed in glory when raised, which made Him almost unrecognizable to those who knew Him mostly by His humanity. Our beloveds shall be glorified, too. We will know them, but this next meeting, we shall rejoice, as will they. Only that: rejoicing! We have barely tasted rejoicing here — marriages, births, seeing our children do well or be saved. Indeed, for now, we hope — but we doubt, like those first hopefuls who watched Him ascend!

We keep on hoping.

We were always Meant for eternal life. The Son atoned, and we were left with the Means of eternal life: an Indwelling. We are the new borrowed tomb.

We hardly believe it, but oh, we’ve heard Him in life. We will hear Him in death, too, clearly. And we will rise. In Him, with Him, and through Him.

Happy Easter.







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