An Easter Narrative
by
Sylvia Dooling
My name is “Mary.” Odd, there are times when I have to remind myself of who
I am. Age can play practical jokes on one’s mind and body. These days I have
to sit close to the fire to keep warm, for my body’s natural heat has
disappeared with the passage of time. But, thank God, most of the time, my
mind is still clear. I wish I could say as much for my eyes. However, these
eyes have been allowed to see wondrous things.
How blessed I’ve been to be allowed to see, hear, and experience, first
hand, God’s miraculous plan of the ages.
I have to admit, the day Jesus died on the cross the flame of hope inside me
was almost extinguished. I felt lost, utterly cast down. And I wasn’t the
only one. The day after we watched him die, his followers and I remained in
the upper room, hoping we might be able to feel his presence by being
together where we had shared his last meal. But he was dead. His body lay
stiff and cold in Joseph’s tomb.
How quickly our despair was turned first to shocked amazement, and then to
pure joy when we heard the astounding news that Jesus was alive! At first,
we thought it had to be wishful thinking, or an apparition. After all, the
young women who had hurried to the tomb to prepare his body for burial were
physically and emotionally spent from their hours of mourning. But, one by
one, others witnessed his resurrection also, and we knew it had to be true.
It was then that I remembered he had told us he must die but he would rise
again the third day. Why hadn’t I thought of that the day he died! I guess,
seeing his lifeless body swept all other thoughts from my mind.
Many never have believed that Jesus is alive! Rumors spread quickly that his
disciples had stolen the body and hidden it. I wonder why people would
rather believe it was a hoax than to experience the joy of his resurrection?
Unfortunately, our times with him were limited after that glorious Easter
morning. We shared a meal several times. He would suddenly appear in the
midst of us, would sit with us, and try to, once again, prepare us for his
final departure, and then he would vanish. It was difficult for us to know
what to say or how to act. It slowly began to sink into our somewhat
paralyzed minds that Jesus was far more than we would ever be able to
comprehend.
It was a particularly difficult time for me. This was my son–the one I had
carried in my arms, sat up with at night when a nightmare would shake him
out of peaceful slumber. This man, after all, was God in the flesh! I can
say I believed it all along. At the same time, I stumbled in the dark just
like everyone else. I do know that even though he’s been gone from me,
physically, for many years, I still think of him as my little boy. I
carefully bring out old memories, rehearse them for periods of time, and
then tuck them away. You must understand, for an old woman, the past,
oftentimes, is far more vivid than the present. But don’t get me wrong. I
also worship him as Lord. Besides, I think he understands the difficulties I
have–though others may think I’m irreverent.
I knew, from the beginning, that he was mine for only a short while. Too
soon, it seemed, he gave himself to the multitudes, and finally, he became
the Savior of the world for all peoples at all times. I did have to share
him, and yet, in sharing him I gained more of him. The love that permeated
him dwells with me now. I’ve never been alone since the day John took me
into his home. And I converse with Jesus all through the day. He hears me! I
know it! He also answers. Oh, not in words I can hear, but he’s brought
thoughts to my mind, words he said when I was with him that I should have
forgotten long ago.
It was after his ascension that I sensed his presence in and around me like
I never had before. Countless others say they share those feelings. It all
happened at Pentecost I was given assurance in my heart that evil had been
destroyed that Jesus reigns as King now!
How shortsighted I’d been, thinking it would be an earthly kingdom. It’s
greater than my limited, worn-out mind can grasp. But I know I will spend
eternity with him. That all of us will, who trust him and believe he is the
Christ. I look forward to the day when I can see him again face to face
You see, he promised us he would return. He didn’t say when, and I have to
admit I expected it would be sooner. But I realize my time is drawing to a
close, so I won’t be seeing him with these worn-out eyes. Still I will see
him, for someday I will have a new body just like his body that was
resurrected. Shortly, my friends and family will mourn my passing. Yet, in a
way, I look forward to it, for it will hasten the time when
I will be with Jesus again.
In the meantime, I am surrounded by a community of people who call him Lord
as I do. I have watched his kingdom spread all over this world. His
disciples have faithfully told the story and miraculously, peoples’ lives
are being changed. They are meeting together to worship, and not only are
they worshiping together; but they are eating together and sharing their
meager possessions. They deeply care for one another. I’ve seen Jesus’
teachings put into practice. Where once I thought the world was lost because
of evil, now I am convinced that it has been reborn through Jesus’ death and
resurrection. Oh, I know, it has a long way to go, but there’s an air of
expectancy now as never before. There’s hope!
As for me, I have been blessed, as no one else, to have my body used as a
dwelling place for the Son of God. Inside, I still feel like a young girl, I
can still hear the angel’s message, see the star which shone over Bethlehem
announcing his birth, smell the stable that was our shelter, feel his warm
body close to mine as I nursed him. And to think, at this moment, he reigns
in heaven–my son, the Messiah!
The words which poured out of me the day I visited Elizabeth still ring in
my ears today–more meaningful to me now, than when I said them
‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he
has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all
generations will call me blessed, for he who is mighty has done great things
for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is on those who fear him from
generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm, he has
scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, he has put down the
mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled
the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away. He has
helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our
fathers, to Abraham and to his posterity for ever.”
Written in 1982