It’s an everlasting tension, a quintessential query Christians carry: How will we hold on to joy though this world gives solution to grief? As believers, we hinge our hope on Christ’s victory over death. We rejoice in our salvation—the gift of everlasting life—yet grief grows wild, runs rampant on this life.
I wake each morning to recent mercies, only to reckon with old wounds. I could read you my litany of losses, but I do know you may have yours too: The estranged daughter. The marriage in need of mending. The recent diagnosis. The loved one lost too soon. The house that burned down. The pet that passed away. The love that betrayed you. The crowd that harmed you.
When the resurrected Jesus appeared on the garden tomb, as yet unrecognizable to Mary, he asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” (John 20:15). Christ, even in his moment of victory, made space for her grief. In this manner, shouldn’t be the Resurrection harking back to the Incarnation? That unfathomable mystery that Christ got here as a baby, forsaking all power for the sake of propitiation, yes, but additionally simply for the sake of proximity to us.
Jesus, with the simplicity of a matter, makes space for Mary’s sorrow. At the garden tomb—that place of each greenery and grave, of miracle and mourning—Christ’s compassionate moment with Mary demonstrates that we’re chosen to know and to be known by him. We should not merely a people to rescue; we’re a people, yes, saved and sent out (Mark 3:13–14), but additionally invited simply to be with him.
On Easter Sunday, I remember the very first thing Jesus did after his resurrection. Though the God-man had just been raised to life, he continued to stoop down and stay low. This is how Jesus has all the time been. He is the Word turn into flesh, taking over human form to dwell and dine, suffer and rejoice with us. He is our risen Lord, bending an ear to Mary, lingering in the primary moments of their reunion on the garden tomb. He is God, standing beside man within the garden at the start of time.
This was Mary’s joy when he spoke her name, and he or she finally recognized and reunited along with her Rabboni (John 20:16). This is our joy, too. The risen Jesus brings salvation, and he brings himself. His victory will bring us from graves into glory, and he has come to be with us now, within the garden tomb of life on earth. He meets us, at the same time as loss interlaces all we love and live by, each throughout the season of Easter and without end beyond. Hallelujah.
Rachel Marie Kang is founding father of The Fallow House and is the creator of two books.
This article is a component of Easter within the Everyday, a devotional to assist individuals, small groups, and families journey through the 2024 Lent & Easter season. Learn more about this special issue here!
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