An Easter Story

Mary turned away from the two men who sat inside the tomb, her heart so hurt and her head so confused that it didn’t seem strange to her that they were there at all. What did it matter who these men were? The body of the Lord was gone. Not only had her hope been crucified and killed, but now His body had been stolen. They could not even mourn his death properly.
Her back now turned to the tomb, Mary saw a man standing not far away. Her heart leaped. He looked so familiar! He looked so very much like her Lord had before He had been brutalized and beaten. They had shredded His skin and pierced Him until He no longer looked human. Upon seeing this man, who so resembled her Savior, Mary’s heart cried out. Her breath caught in her throat and came out in a deep sob. In anguish, Mary fell to her knees and wept into her hands.
“Woman why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?”
Mary looked up at the man and tried to speak through her sobs. This must be the gardener. Perhaps he had taken the Master’s body or seen who had taken it.
“Sir, if thou hast borne Him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him and I will take Him away.”
The man’s face shown with compassion, but he did not speak or give her any information. Mary was again hit by the hopelessness and cruelty of the situation and wept. But then a voice said, “Mary.” Mary quit weeping. She quit breathing. Her mind screamed, “I know that voice!” Slowly she raised her head.
There was no one there but the gardener. The gardener… whose eyes shown with the love and wisdom of all the ages. The gardener… whose feet and hands bore deep red scars where nails had held Him to a tree. The gardener… whose voice, so familiar, rang with such authority and yet such compassion. The gardener… who had ripped up the roots of sin and death, and had, in their place, planted a seed of hope for all mankind. The gardener… the Master… was alive!