I am questioning everything right now. I know that I am meant to write but where, and what? Lord, where do I go? Where is the whole world?
“Mary Magdalene stayed outside the tomb weeping.” John 20:11
When the other disciples returned home, Mary did not. Attached to her Lord and overcome by grief, Mary stayed weeping by the tomb. Unable to remember the scriptures or unaware of them in that moment, she was consumed by her feelings of loss and loneliness. The one who had saved her, who had made her new was now gone. And she left with this new life in Him, was alive in her skin but dead in her soul, dependent on Him for every breath of her life.
Mary’s weeping is the loneliness we feel in our sorrow and grief when we know the truth but are overcome by human emotion. We, like Mary, can choose in those moments to stay outside the tomb and wait for Him or take our sorrow into the world where it will quickly be tossed aside.
The greatest comfort of Christ is found beside the tomb
Why is it that in our greatest sadness, Christ comes to us more real and prevalent than ever before? Because He is the One that knows sadness and grief, because He had to die to be glorified, because we have a high priest who sympathizes with us in our greatest weakness. Jesus did not come to prove to the world that God was real, Jesus came to show the world what God looks like with skin on.
In our human flesh, the divinity of God is a mystery that we can hardly understand. We can understand Jesus because He looked, talked and ate just like us. He experienced human emotion, made friends and was part of a family. Jesus was relatable because He became poor, not in the monetary sense, but in the sense of spirit. He knew what it was like to be human.
So when we come to Him empty, He knows that emptiness- He experienced it cold and alone in that tomb. He has encountered all that life has to offer, which is nothing outside of Himself. And that’s why Mary was weeping, because she knew and understood that. She knew that without Him, she was nothing. What she failed to realize was that He was always with her, stronger than ever before, defeating death for her so she could live fully and eternally on earth as it is in heaven.
But the depths of Mary’s despair are a beautiful reminder of her deep love for Christ, her self -realization that He was everything to her, and her inability to move on with her life without Him. And this should be our story too. To sit by the tomb with Mary and miss Him, to come to the self-realization that we have filled our emptiness with things other than Him and to reconcile ourselves to Him. Time beside the tomb weeping is not wasted time, it is precious.
The seeds of our tears produce the flowers growing beside the tomb of Christ
Today, spend some time beside the tomb, engaging in this spiritual exercise.
Sit in Silence. Allow any emotion that comes to you to flow. And allow yourself to be reconciled to your Lord- for the things you have not done, have not said. For the people you have not invited back in. Allow His forgiveness to flow, from His heart to yours. Hear Him say your name, because He knows it. Sit in the intimacy of the moment. Allow His love to flow through you. Do not leave the tomb until your tears and joy are taken care. Until you hear Him call your name. Until you see the flowers bloom.
There is a part of us that is still hidden. A part misunderstood. A part exposed. But sometimes they are disconnected, separated far apart.
The hiddenness of God is a sacred thing. Like a veil over the tabernacle, we cover ourselves internally so nobody can touch us there. And at the center of that tabernacle of our soul is the Lord’s eucharistic love that was created in us and existed from the beginning of time. We may not want to touch our very hidden parts, but He does. For Him, that hiddenness is certainly exposed.
Your Father sees in secret.
Lent is certainly a time of reflection and barren deserts. And while the wastelands are where I find myself most at ease, I desire more than the grain of sand. I desire the molecule behind it. I want to FEEL the sand, not simply touch it. I want the in-between-the-fingers not simply the palms. I want the inside of the grain.
I want my soul exposed in the hot sun of the noonday.
We don’t have to wander through the desert like the Israelites. We don’t have to complain. We can journey and praise and fall on our knees, not asking for quail but asking for whatever God sends to sustain us. Fasting from the whole world and leaving it far, far behind,
Lent is self-sacrifice, perseverance, exposition, tears. It is the big gaping hole inside of your chest. It is the longing for that something more. It is the urge to sin and be saved at the exact same time. It is the walking towards sainthood and the wanting to experience temporal human pleasure. It is the sacred heart of Jesus, the walking it out, the insides of His insides and not mine. It is working out my salvation with fear and trembling for a God who offers me more than this world ever could. It is constant forgiveness for the man who took everything from me, remembering that God offers Him forgiveness too.
How can you get up in the morning and not want to be near Him while the hot beating sun is at your back? Forget cheap devotionals and WWJD bracelets. Isn’t it time to deal with your demons?
Stay still but walking. His voice will ricochet off your soul. The sweet spot of God can only be found in wanting and trial. Come join me in the desert.