Reliving Easter Sunday through Peter’s Eyes at the Empty Tomb
In the dark of my regret flickers briefest hope.
My heart hammers and thumps
But my mind can’t cope.
His empty linen wrapping
Is collapsed upon itself.
His folded burial face cloth
Laid upon the graveyard shelf.
John’s eyes shine brightly,
His fingers dig into my arm,
Exhaled breath of wonder,
Dispelling his alarm.
We return to our hidden room
Where all the others wait,
Confirming Mary’s words
Still uncertain of our fate.
Then, there he is before us!
As he said, he would arise.
Fear a et that captures hearts:
We can’t believe our eyes.
He speaks and calms
As if he’d never gone
Loving and compassionate
Forgiving me my wrongs.
Those gathered in the hidden room weren’t the only ones to see Jesus that day. Cleopas and another disciple had the scriptures explained to them in an Encounter at Emmaus
Strange happenings? Simply Scripture as foretold.
Don’t grieve. Believe God’s plan as it unfolds.
Messiah will truly rule in glory at a future date,
But came making whole, saving souls. Compare the events of late:
David knew Messiah as his offspring and God’s son.
Isaiah said he’d die to redeem men from rebellion.
Zechariah wrote sheep scattered when the shepherd was struck.
His cloak was split and clothes won in Gentile game of luck.
A trusted friend would sell him to enemies and betray.
Tough dead, the Holy One wouldn’t see decay.
One and on, the Word was revealed on the road.
Hearts burning, minds pricked as by a rider’s goad.
It makes sense. Why were we blind to it before?
It’s not hidden or discreet. Now, tell us more.
Here’s the wine and broken bread.
Here I AM, alive not dead.