John 20 Terri Harvey
Why do I hasten down the road this after-Sabbath day,
the dust disturbed by my hurried footfalls?
My heart was broken with His on that darkening day,
and I was buried in sorrow through that night and day and night-
a joyless Sabbath, wondering at my faithless fears.
I saw Him heal and feed and pray; I felt the tears of testimony warm, then dry upon my cheeks.
I thought I knew.
But now my steps slow and falter among the rocks and thorns of this garden slope. Why do I climb? What do I seek? How dare I dare?
I will go and do as my heart has led me, with jar and cloth, and hope that I may find access to Him.
Confusion. Have I arrived? Is this the place? Discarded swords. Unbalanced rock ajar. Folded linen bleached blindingly white. But where...
Gone. All gone. Tragically gone.
Head down to calm my panic, forcing breath.
A voice?
“Woman, why weepest thou? What seekest thou?”
Poor kind gardener. How can I begin to open the gate of my heart? How could you, meek soul, abide the depth of what I have seen and heard and felt?
And yet I long for you to rescue me – to take this balm and bind the wound. I beg with clouded eyes.
“Mary.” A distant voice before. Now the familiar whisper of compassion. Dare I lift my eyes to meet his? Hoping hope restores my faith.
The final call to me is by pure Spirit – the purest breath of all.
At last I hear. I see. I feel. I answer:
Master !
