He is not here.

The tomb is empty.

They were words of sadness. Disappointment. Abandonment.

He had promised he would never leave them. And now he was gone.

He is not here.

It was the angel’s message.

But Mary only had half the story. It wasn’t finished yet. The story that seemed so finished, wrapped, tied, knotted.

It wasn’t over.

But how was she supposed to know?

“My Lord is gone, I do not know where they have laid him”

He was there all the time but she,overtaken by grief, failure, disappointment, could not see him.

Her eyes were probably tear clouded. Her heart broken.

She couldn’t see him.

Even though he was there.

It’s Easter morning.

My Lord is here.

Stepping out of the dead places in your life. Hidden behind the tears on your eyes.

He is here.

And He dries the tears.

He heals the broken heart.

He brings life to dying dreams and stone-sealed disappointments.

He is here.

And He is life.

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