“O death, where is your victory?” 1 Co 15:55b
After Jesus had given up His spirit, it is written that Joseph
went to Pilate, asking permission to remove Jesus from the cross, prepare his
body for burial and lay him to rest in the grave that Joseph had gotten for
himself. Scholars have written that Joseph was a rich man, a secret disciple of
Jesus, a member of the Council. Whatever the relationship was, this we know for
sure…he loved Jesus and his heart was broken. After obtaining permission, he
and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus’ body with spices in strips of linen, as part of
the Jewish tradition. At some point there must have been a moment when their
eyes met with unspoken acknowledgment that the time had come. With heavy
spirits and broken hearts, they turned to the dark entrance of the tomb and
slowly approached. One last glance over their shoulders and as they came out of
the tomb the only thing left was for the final stone to be rolled across the
entrance.
I know all about the final stone being rolled. My sister was
diagnosed with a rare cancer with her prognosis being 2-4 months to live when
discovered. Her brave walk lasted 11 months and ended one cold March day 11
years ago. I know what it is like to see a loved one laying lifeless on the
edge of death. It was on a Friday and I was at her bedside in the Hospice
House. She had been despondent for six days and her body lay still as if it had
already passed. I knew her breaths were limited and so were her hours. As my
eyes fell upon her in those ebbing hours, I was aware that the stone was
beginning to roll marking the close of her life. I reached down to the floor
and pulled her slippers to my heart knowing her feet would never walk this
earth again. I walked around the room and gathered up clothes…her sweater
hanging on the chair…her prayer shawl draped over the bed…her robe hanging on
the back of the door…Things that seemed necessary on another day but not on
this day. On the bathroom counter her small wedding band rested that would soon
represent only memories for my brother-in-law. I gently folded her clothes and
placed them in her suitcase. Heartbroken I lifted the framed picture of her 8-year
-old daughter and placed it between her clothes. I took one more look, touched
her one more time, reached down and kissed her on the cheek. I whispered, ‘safe
travels…I will see you again someday’, slipped out of the room and soon after,
the final stone was rolled. Behind that final stone laid several deaths. The
death of the future dreams she shared with her husband and daughter…the death
of shared future celebrations between four sisters. Behind that final stone
laid multiple deaths for those who were left behind to mourn…to grieve…and to
try to make sense of it all.
From THAT experience on THAT Friday, maybe I know a little of
what Jesus’ followers were going through on THIS Friday, Good Friday. But from
the standpoint of the disciples, it was anything but good. As they reflected on
all that had transpired that day, their walk with Jesus must have seemed like a
faraway dream. What happened to the promise that the King would set up His
kingdom? What was the next step on a journey that seemed to prematurely end? As
the day lost its light, the dream lost its pulse. Future plans were dashed…
overwhelming confusion… unanswered questions. They were left on that Friday
staring into the final stone which held captive all their hopes and dreams.
But as believers and having access to God’s completed story of
redemption, we know how the story ends. Death on earth means life in Heaven.
Because of Christ, no tomb can hold us and no grave triumphs over us! Unlike
the disciples we have hope when our loved ones pass over into glory, because
the stone becomes the gate and places are taken next to Christ Jesus. ‘Good
Friday marks the day when wrath and mercy met at the cross. Paradoxically, the
day that seemed to be the greatest triumph of evil was actually the deathblow
in God’s gloriously good plan to redeem the world from bondage.’
Christianity Today website, Father, I Commit My Spirit into Your Hands
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