She stands still. wrapped up in her grief, raw and painful. “why are you crying?” they ask. Why wouldn’t she cry? He has been taken away. The man she loved, the one who taught her everything she knew, the only one who accepted her just as she is. He met her there with open arms, making anything possible. He has been taken away, and I don’t know where he is.
“Why are you crying? Who are you looking for?” The injustice and the pain cloud her vision. I cry out. Where is he? Where have you taken him? I want to see him again one last time.
But He is there standing in front of her. He calls me by name. I wrap my arms around him. She cries out, seeing him standing there so clearly. Touching Him. Did she kiss his hands? I reach for his face.
He speaks, lovingly and firm. Let me go. You can’t hold on to me. I have to go. She doesn’t want to let Him. This is too wonderful, to have him here again. A tear rolls down my cheek. She releases his hand, lingering on his fingers, relishing the final touch.
Go tell them. He says. tell my brothers I am going to meet my Father and your Father, to my God and your God. She steels herself, knowing what she must do. A new resolution. A steady, sure and certain hope in her heart. And she goes to them with the news Jesus is alive.
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Ben wasn’t Jesus. I’m going to use this disclaimer immediately. But I have been stood, as Mary was, alone, afraid and searching for hope. My connection with her isn’t a new one. As I have faithfully and sometimes angrily searched for strong and faithful women, she just pips them all to the post.
When the final moments came, I thought I would be afraid. Instead I found myself filled with a joy. I went, as Mary did, to tell everyone! I felt God had been good. It wasn’t just a peace but an excitement. A story that is worth hearing. That Ben was indeed faithful and good. Not perfect, but striving and hurting and longing to be the best he could. That was enough.
I look for him in the flowers sprouting around. I follow his example of looking for the best in each new day. Easter has reminded me that Ben got his inspiration from somewhere else too. He was following an example that was perfect.
Ben would often say that God is love. He is everywhere because love is possible everywhere. By showing love we are allowing God into our lives.
However, part of feeling this love in is letting go. Faith needs a leap. We cannot be bound by what we think love, or grief, or pain, or joy ought to look like. By clinging on to parts we think we understand we aren’t allowing ourselves to be open to fullness of what life or faith has to offer.
We see grief transformed into delight. A remembering of happy times, a life well lived. There isn’t sadness in recalling hurt or arguments, but a longing to take these lessons and to transform them into something good.
As spring emerges, bringing longer days and peeping flower buds, I hope you too might find some of that love.
ps… if you want to have a look for yourself you can find the story in John 20: 11-18
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