You were a follower of Jesus while he walked on the earth. You had been torn from your old, tired religion of rituals and rules. Your heart had been captured by his mercy and grace. He had promised the oppressive nature of Judaic law would be lifted. You believed he was the fulfillment of prophecy. Yesterday, you watched in horror at the abuse and torture. In the death of the final sacrificial lamb, Passover was erased permanently from your calendar. You mourned today. He was dead!
You were a curious onlooker at this man, who called himself “The Son Of God”. Everything you had ever been taught had been shaken. Could it be? Comfort came in clinging to tradition. Could he be who he said he was? Dangerous power drip from his every word. Was he a madman or the Messiah? He walked a precarious line between revolutionary and blasphemer. Yesterday, you watched them beat him, as he carried his cross. Covered in blood, he had looked you directly in your eyes as he passed by. There was something different about this man. It scared you and you could not forget him. He was dead!
You were glad it was over. Finally, someone had the intestinal fortitude to do something about this heretic. How could this radical lunatic have been allowed to question the faith of Abraham? Yesterday, during Passover, he claimed he was the ultimate sacrifice. His crazy followers had called him the “Lamb Of God”. He said he respected the traditions, but then claimed he was doing the Father’s work. You were glad it was over. This threat was gone. He was dead!
Now what? Everyone knew his promise of resurrection tomorrow.
You woke today and walked through the city with an incredible sadness. His broken, beaten body was lying behind a stone outside the city. As you passed by another believer, you looked deeply, silently into eyes filled with tears. Hope of tomorrow could not erase the loss. The man, who had changed your life, was gone! Tomorrow would be the confirmation for all to see. He would rise!
You barely slept last night. He never wavered from love and kindness. He willingly walked to his death to fulfill his destiny. You heard him ask his father to forgive them. You got drunk last night to forget what you had witnessed. This morning the images were more vivid, more haunting than yesterday. You would not leave your home today. You did not want to see those who believed or those who had crucified him. Tomorrow would prove him a fraud or a King. Would he rise?
You walked to the temple to see the destruction. You stood with the others and offered your explanation for what had happened. Coincidence, not a Christ, was the only plausible answer. You nodded to others in silent piety. The problem had been eradicated. Society and religion were safe again. Centurions guarded “the son of god” in a tomb. His zealous followers could not give credence to his story by stealing the body. Rise tomorrow? No way!
Doesn’t matter whether if it was two thousand years ago or today. What are you waiting for?