Colossians 3:17--And whatever you do, whether in word or in deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
The thing I knew for sure about Mom is that she knew everything. Or, at least, she knew whatever I needed to know. I think most of all she knew how to love me. She knew how to nurture and support and encourage me—and all four of us girls. I loved how we all had our own toys or household items in our assigned “favorite” colors. Of course, she already knew that I liked blue best, and it’s still my favorite color.
Christmas 1957: Jim holding Mimi, Kate, Betty holding Lisa, Jan
One year for Christmas we all got big stuffed dogs we could sit on. Another year we all got kitty cat chairs. Every year I loved decorating the reindeer cookies with icing eyes and collars. For Easter we always got pretty new dresses—and shoes and socks and pocketbooks and maybe spring coats or sweaters and even hats when we were little. I know we looked adorable, because I remember people telling us we did. “And no boys?” they sometimes said to us. “No boys!” I would reply proudly. No yucky boys, I always thought.
Easter 1959
I remember our trip to New York City when Kate insisted on going through the lobby of our real hotel with her enormous Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent wrapped around her. I think Mom was a little embarrassed, but we never saw anything wrong with it. New York was just one of the fascinating places she and Daddy took us. I loved seeing the US on our family vacations—even when, as a money-saving measure, she made us switch to camping and I cried at the prospect. All our adventures together around Europe were especially sweet. She and Daddy just let me and Maurice be in charge and take them wherever we wanted to go.
Pastor Randy at the Stone of Unction, where Jesus’ body may have been prepared for burial, Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
I knew he was dead. Everyone else who had been there knew that too. In response to the Jewish leaders’ request that the bodies not be left up on the Sabbath, Pilate sent soldiers to break the legs of the crucified to hasten their deaths. But they didn’t bother to break Jesus’ legs because he was already dead.
The other two crucified Jews would probably be hauled to the trash dump in the valley of Gehenna. But what about Jesus? How I loved him!—all his followers did. He needed a proper burial. I couldn’t do it alone and there were no men around. Besides, it might be dangerous to step forward and claim his body. Already there were rumors that Jesus’ disciples were the next target of the ruling council. There wasn’t time for tears. I sat down in the shade of a rock to think.
Soon a small group appeared led by two men in richly-ornamented robes. Members of the Council? Pharisees? They approached the cross and began the process of taking down Jesus’ body. I didn’t know they were believers that Jesus was the Son of God. They never let on. I didn’t know they loved my Jesus too. How carefully they pulled out the nails. How tenderly they cradled his body as they balanced it to earth, laid it on a stretcher and covered it with a shroud. How nimbly they walked through the descending dusk to the garden across the way. I followed. I had to see. He was my master.
Propped a little off the ground in a space amid the lush plantings of the garden lay a long rock, its top flat, its sides chiseled away. Someone had managed to drag it there near the tombs to ease the labor of preparing a body for burial. Joseph and Nicodemus carefully placed Jesus’ body on the rock and called for their servants to bring the supplies they were carrying—bundles of linen and jars of spices, so many spices that it took three men to carry them on their backs. Then Joseph and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus’ body in strips of linen layered with the spices—and they themselves did it, not their servants. Such humility these embroidered and gilded Pharisees showed. Had Jesus served them too by washing their feet? Now they lifted and wrapped, aloe caking under their rings, tears falling into the spices and releasing more fragrance. Finished. Night was falling, the Sabbath beginning, but they stood in silence for a minute, these two respected leaders of the Jews. They had defiled themselves, made themselves unclean, by handling a dead body. To my astonishment, one and then the other bent to gently kiss the body of my Lord. Then, with the help of the servants, they laid him in the tomb and struggled together to roll the huge stone across the entrance. Joseph and Nicodemus placed their hands briefly on each other’s shoulders then walked away.
*****
But Jesus didn’t stay dead. That’s not possible! How can a dead body come back to life? He really was dead, with the marks of death and a deep sword gash in his side where a gush of blood and water poured out. I saw it!
Yet now the strips of linen are piled empty on the cold stone of the grave. Jesus spoke to Mary of Magdala in the garden. Some of his disciples saw angels. The Roman soldiers guarding the tomb are in trouble. And Jesus’ mother—well, she can’t stop singing!
I saw Jesus too. The blood and wounds from three days ago are but strong scars. He called me by name. I fell at his feet and wanted to cry but instead we laughed together. He is risen from the dead! He is risen indeed! “I can hardly believe this is true,” I told Jesus. He looked at me deeply and smiled. “I told you, didn’t I? Now go tell everybody,” he said. “Blessed are those who have not seen me and yet believe. I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me will never stay dead either but will have everlasting life. Tell everyone!”
Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior, waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord.
Vainly they watch his bed, Jesus my Savior, vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord.
Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Savior; he tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!
Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o’er his foes!
He arose a victor from the dark domain, and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
Robert Lowry, 1874
From Jan, with love in our crucified and risen Savior
(John 19:28-42; John 20:1-18, 29; Matthew 28; John 3:16; John 11:25-26)
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