For three years, Christ followers watched Jesus reach out to the poor and weak, heal the sick and dying, even bring the dead back to life. They heard him speak to the storm and watch the sea become still. They saw a small lunch become enough food to feed thousands on a hillside.
And yet something even greater was happening. In every encounter Jesus took broken lives and made them whole. A woman who had exhausted every resource trying to find a cure for her disease touched his robe and was healed. Another who had searched for love in half a dozen failed relationships found his forgiveness. One who was facing death was given new life when Jesus rescued her.
But a life of love had led Jesus not to admiration and applause but to suffering and death. He didn’t die by accident. It wasn’t a malicious plot that caught him off guard. Jesus laid down on the cross a willing sacrifice for us.
And then Sunday came. The stone rolled away. The women arrived to hear the glorious news. Darkness had covered the earth. But the darkness of death could not cover the light of resurrection. He arose. Hallelujah, he arose.
A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope