Up at First Light
I love a group of women. Though one-on-one coffee chat is awesome, my heart is for a big group of ladies talking, eating, telling stories, and laughing so hard they just might pee on themselves. (And sometimes we do. No shame.) I love being around women who are real with themselves, real with each other, and real with their struggles and heartache and triumphs.
And I wish I had known those women from Luke 8. Can't you just see them? Making sure the men washed their clothes often enough to not stink too bad. Making sure Jesus had a decently balanced diet, because heaven knows the Twelve with him would have settled for whatever the equivalent of chips and pizza was back then. I bet they worked their tails off, and we know they used their own money to fund it all. I bet they saw the exhaustion in Jesus' face and asked Him if they could help. I bet they held hands and hugged hard and laughed so hard they may have peed on themselves. (Most of them had given birth; it comes with the territory.)
So it's no surprise that their tendencies to help out didn't end with Jesus' death on the cross. Though Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had taken His body and prepared it according to custom (John 19:39-42), obviously these women were certain they hadn't done it "right." (We do the same thing; for some reasons, men just don't seem to change diapers or clean of a counter top as we expect.) So just before Sabbath began, they went home and prepared spices and perfumes, finishing just in time to obey the Sabbath rest command (Luke 21:55-56).
"Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, 'Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?'" (Mark 16:2).
I can see this perfectly. A group of women can easily start a home renovation project, plant an over sized garden, or embark on a new ministry at church without having the slightest clue of how it will all happen. It's what makes us fearless: we just know we'll figure it out. And usually we're right. These women had no idea how they would roll that giant stone away, but they'd figure it out. You've been there; you and your sister or cousins or girlfriends have done this very thing.
While the Twelve were locked in a room, gripped by fear, this handful of women walked boldly to the tomb, carrying their spices and ready to help.
Because that's what we do. Groups of women don't just sit around and talk:
They help. They love. They hold out a hand. They hug hard. They make sure everybody's okay, even when they themselves are not okay.
Jesus had a soft spot in His heart for the women who boldly followed Him. He stood up for the woman caught in adultery, He silenced Judas when His feet were being anointed, he raised the son of a widow when she hadn't even asked Him to help.
Jesus still has a soft spot in His heart for women. He sees us bearing the anxiety and strain of this crazy, quarantined world. He sees you scrimping and saving. He sees that extra patience you're showing to your kids and your husband. He sees you lying awake at night, praying for your income and your kids' education and your family's ability to live quarantined without killing each other. He sees you wiping down those doorknobs, swallowing your pride, and sharing those messages of hope with your friends. He hears you crying out to Him; He is the God who knows, who sees, and who has a plan for even this.
"[The angel] said to the women, 'Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said...So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy...Suddenly Jesus met them. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him," (Matthew 28:5-9).
Is it any wonder, then, that these women were the first ones to see the resurrected Jesus? They got up early, ready to help, intending to work.
But Jesus didn't need their help; He had it under control. Instead of helping, He blessed them. He found them in the midst of their worry and their questions and their hopelessness. He was there to bless them with His presence. And they worshiped Him, spontaneously and genuinely.
For my Easter of quarantine, I'm going to follow the footsteps of those awesome women on that first Easter: at first light, I'm going to go see the resurrected Jesus. I'm going to get up before anybody else, cup of coffee in hand and Bible in my lap. I'm going to worship Jesus. I'm going to expect Him to be there. I'm going to cry out to Him with my stress and my frustrations and my shortcomings, knowing that He's there and He's listening and He cares. I'm going to praise, I'm going to worship, and I'm going to let it change me forever.
And I know we can't physically do this together, but I'd love to have you there with me. Is anyone else willing to get up before the dawn, sit in silence, and experience the Presence of our living Lord? What a blessing to know that a group of women can do all this in our own homes, miles from each other, but with one heart and one mind.
I love you. Happy Easter.
Leslie
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