Lent is done.
Easter has come and gone.
The show is over.
It is finished.
When the silence begins to roar in our ears, we will hurry to His tomb to press our hands on the rock behind which He lay, eager to reassure ourselves that He was here once.
Our mourning will be made anew, the well of tears we thought we had spent will flow freely.
We will kneel and we will pray, whisper His name and His words, ask our God to keep Him, and long for the day when we might be able to follow.
We will mourn this Man, because we have witnessed His death.
So with the pain still sharp, we journey to the gravesite clutching lilies and our grief.
But we will find the stone rolled away.
We will find a strange Man asking, “Why are you weeping?”
And before we can make sense of His question, He will call out our name, and then we will see Jesus.
For many Easters since then and from now, the tomb shall still sit empty.