She loved him. She believed in him. Her heart was broken because she loved him and now he was dead. There had been such hope, such promise, as he spoke and taught them the ways of God. He said to believe. He said to trust. He said everything was going to be okay.
She witnessed the beatings. She heard his sentence. The sound of the nails pounding into his hands and feet would never leave her. Her anguish burst through her chest as she watched him struggling with that wretched wooden cross.
As she walked toward the tomb, she wrestled with the terrible memories of the last few days. Feet dragging in the sand, arms hanging limp at her sides, she felt emotionally exhausted. Tears spilled from her eyes and hope seemed so very far away.
As she reached the tomb, her heart began to race. She saw the stone had already been moved. “They have taken him! They have stolen his body! ” Anguish increased as she fell to her knees in sorrow.
Through her tears she saw a man who asked, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Without thinking she replied, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.”
Hope was restored when he said her name. “Mary.”
Story based on John 20:1-18