He Is Here

Written by Sister Alena X. Ricci on Monday, March 30, 2015. Posted in Holidays

He Is Here

As promised, today we're kicking off our week of creative Easter stories! We're starting with Sister Alena Ricci writing from the perspective of Mary Magdalene. Before the story, a quick note from Sister Alena:

Let me first begin by saying that this is one of the hardest blog articles I've ever written. Why? Because this woman was the first woman to see Jesus after the resurrection, and she was the one who washed His feet. Because my first thought was: what do I possibly have in common with Mary Magdalene to write as her voice?

And then I realized that we have a lot in common: we are both saved by undeserving grace.

This article is a mash-up of songs, poems, scripture, and any articles or books I could find in my university library (you may recognize some). So I hope that you enjoy this story of the woman to see Jesus after the crucifixion, and that you have a happy Resurrection Day!

This. This is what darkness feels like. I know this feeling, and I was hoping to never have to feel it again. But back then I had no hope.
Now I have an unfathomable sense of hope. That even in this darkness, I will not forget what has been taught to me in the light.
And how can I? I am standing in the middle of a tomb where my Savior laid and now He is not here.
He is not here.
Is this a trick? Is it a crime?
I need to be strong in this. He did not call me so that my feet may fall and for fear to surround me. But He's never failed.
And He won't begin now.
I feel tears start to drip down my cheeks. I will not cry. I have cried enough for three lifetimes, and I cannot begin now.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
My eyes look around. The tomb is still empty.
I can hear my own heart beating. Father, let this not be all that I think this is. It is time to be brave. It is time to be the woman that I am called to be.
When I step down into the tomb I see two people in white sitting where my Jesus laid.

"Daughter of the King, why are you weeping?"

"Daughter of the King?" I am no princess. I was just a pathetic woman who has found an eternal treasure. I clear my throat and wipe my tears off of my cheeks. "Because someone has taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him." There. This is my reality. He is gone, and I feel my hope crumbling with each breath that flows in and out of my body. I need to escape this place of death. It is stifling.

I turn.
And there is a man there: a familiar man. Why is he familiar?

He opens his mouth to speak, "Daughter of the King, why are you crying? Why do you allow tears to fall? Whom are you looking for that you cannot find?" His voice. It is familiar. It is soothing; it is safe.
But it cannot be Him, for He is dead. I saw it. I saw the spear in His side and the nails in His hands.

"Sir, if you have carried Jesus away, tell me where He is and I will do anything to get Him back." I choke back tears and I hear my voice come out with a shake. "Please."
The man looks into my eyes and I see something there that is so familiar. It is so right.

"Mary."

The air changes around us. The world stops, I am sure of it. It is Him. My Jesus is here. He is not dead. He is here before me. I do not know how, but
            He.
                  Is.
                       Here.
With one soft word I know that my Jesus is alive.
"Master." My whisper comes out steady and quiet.
He smiles and I feel tears run down my face again. But instead, these are tears of joy for my Jesus has returned.
I look at His hands, and I look at His sides.
I can't take my eyes off the holes I see where flesh should be.
Now I know truly how much I mean to Him and how far His love goes.
What kind of man loves like this?

"Go and tell the others that I am here and I am risen. And I will meet with them. But go my daughter, and spread the news that I am alive and forever will be."

My ears have heard and my mind has processed, but my body stands stock-still. How could I leave Him again? He has changed my life. I meet His eyes again, nodding and turning away to tell the others that our Jesus is alive.

If I am to be reordered later in history, I hope that I am not known for the woman who did this or that, but I hope that I am remembered as the woman who Jesus saved. So that more women like me will know that there's light at the end of this tunnel. And that my faith has been made stronger in the presence of my Savior.

And my soul rests in His embrace, because He is alive.
For I am His, and He is mine.

This article has undergone ministry review and approval.

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Comments (3)

  • joann cotellesse

    joann cotellesse

    30 March 2015 at 17:28 |
    How moving this story us. I could feel Mary being blessed. It moved me so beautifully. Thank you Lord for I spiri g my sister. God bless you.

    reply

  • Teri-Lyn Tunno

    Teri-Lyn Tunno

    30 March 2015 at 20:25 |
    AWESOME, AWESOME JOB!! I LOVED this Sis. Alena!! I could tell you placed yourself in her shoes and I FELT it.... Truly beautifully written and well done.

    reply

  • Karen Watford

    Karen Watford

    01 April 2015 at 17:48 |
    As I read, I felt like I had come to know a "friend" to a deeper understanding, compassion, love and joy. Throughout the day as I rehearsed the article, it brought tears of sorrow for her but, more so, tears of joy and love. Magnificent! Oh, what love, compassion and mercy our Father and Savior have for us, Their children!

    reply

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