“Woman, why are you crying?” She wheels around. Maybe the morning is foggy. Maybe tears blur her eyes. Maybe Jesus is the last person she expects to see. Whatever the case, she doesn’t recognize him. That is, until— “Mary.” She blinks away the tears and can hardly believe her eyes.

“Master.” . 

She had been there when he suffered at the cross; now he is there when she is suffering. She had stood by him in his darkest hour; now he is standing by her in hers. He had seen her tears; now he is there to wipe them all away. Jesus send her on a great commission—to tell the disciples the good news. “He is risen. I have seen him. I have touched him. He is alive.” And so, too, is her hope. In his triumph, Jesus could have paraded through the streets of Jerusalem. He could have knocked on Pilate’s door. He could have confronted the high priest. But the first person our resurrected Lord appears to is a woman without hope. And the first words he speaks are, “Why are you crying?” What a Savior we serve, or rather, who serves us. For in his hour of greatest triumph, he doesn’t shout his victory from the rooftops. He comes quietly to a woman who grieves . . . who desperately needs to hear His voice . . . see His face . . . and feel His love..

Prayer...

Dear Risen Lord,

How hard it is to see clearly when devastating circumstances bring me to a tomb of grief and fill my eyes with tears. How blurry everything gets. Even you get blurry, and the sound of your voice becomes strangely unfamiliar. Help me to blink away those tears to see that you are standing beside me, wanting to know why I am crying . . . wanting to know where it hurts . . . wanting to wipe away every tear from my eyes. Thank you, Jesus, for being there, for never leaving me or forsaking me, even in the darkest and chilliest hours of my life.

From those circumstances that have shrouded my heart and entombed me, I pray that you would roll away the stone. It is too heavy, and I am too weak to roll it away myself. Where there is doubt, roll away the stone and resurrect my faith. Where there is depression, cast aside the grave clothes and release my joy. Where there is despair, chase away the night and bring a sunrise to my hope.

Yet in my doubt, in my depression, in my despair, help me to continue to love you. Even if I don’t understand you. And I rejoice that no matter how dark the Friday or how cold the tomb, that, with you as my risen Savior, there is always the hope of an Easter morning..

.Amen....

*selected...Moments with saviour..ken gire