John. No matter how much he pleaded, she was resolute. “Son, you will stay right here with me until they return with a report.”
Mary Magdalene, however, slipped away alone and headed from the house.
M ARK ’ S MOTHER INSISTED that he and the servants prepare breakfast and serve everyone while waiting for John and Peter to return. It was all Mark could do concentrate, but he had to admit he found himself agreeing with the disciples who chose not to believe the women’s report. He didn’t know what to think. He wanted to believe this, but it was so far-fetched! But could they all have conspired on such a tale, deluded by their grief and hope? Had Jesus predicted His own resurrection? And if so, why couldn’t Mark believe it any more than His friends chose to?
As they sat eating in the upper room, it was clear the other women were offended by the men’s skepticism. And yet it did not seem to dampen their enthusiasm. Mark made sure he stayed close enough to hear them recite over and over the astounding events of the early dawn.
Presently a servant stood in the doorway. “The men have returned!”
As one, those in the upper room rose, and Peter and John stomped up the stairs. Peter proved mute due to breathlessness. John, gasping and grinning ear to ear, held up a hand for silence.
“It’s true, beloved! It’s true!”
Peter, catching his breath, gushed, “The youngster beat me to the tomb, but I ducked in ahead of him. The grave clothes remain intact, but the body is gone!”
“Are you sure?”
“I say He is risen!” John said.
“We don’t know that,” Peter said.
“Did you see angels too?”
“Can it be?”
One of the women asked if either of the men had seen Mary of Magdala.
“We thought she was here,” Peter said.
So the women left to search for her.
As the disciples talked excitedly among themselves, Mary Magdalene arrived and stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs. The men fell silent and stared at her.
“I saw the Lord,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Thomas rushed to her and helped her sit. “What? Tell us everything!”
“I was crying outside the tomb, fearing we had all been mistaken and that someone had taken Jesus’ body. But as I stooped to look into the tomb, the angels were still there—one on each end of where He had lain—and they asked why I was weeping. I said, ‘Because they have taken my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.’
“I backed away and turned to see a man I assumed to be the gardener standing there. He said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?’
“I said, ‘Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.’”
Mary stopped and pressed her lips together, fighting tears. “Then He said to me, ‘Mary!’ and I knew. I said, ‘Teacher!’ He told me not to cling to Him, for He had not yet ascended to the Father, but He said, ‘Go to My brethren and say to them, “I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.” ’”
Mark had never seen anyone so radiant as Mary. John had been excited, thrilled to find the empty tomb. Peter still seemed to doubt. But Mary said she had talked with Jesus! Mark wanted to believe her so badly.
Just then the other women who had been at the tomb arrived with a similar story. “Jesus met us on the road,” they said. “He told us to rejoice! We fell and held His feet and worshiped Him. He said, ‘Do not be afraid,’ and told us to tell you that you will soon see Him too.”
T HE REST OF THE DAY was spent reviewing all the accounts, the eleven disciples and many of their associates from Galilee arguing among themselves how much could be believed and what should be discounted. Many ventured out, hoping to see Jesus, but most of the eleven, fearing they would be recognized, stayed in the upper room.
Late that evening, all those who were closest to Jesus—save Thomas—sat around the
Mary Magdalene, however, slipped away alone and headed from the house.
M ARK ’ S MOTHER INSISTED that he and the servants prepare breakfast and serve everyone while waiting for John and Peter to return. It was all Mark could do concentrate, but he had to admit he found himself agreeing with the disciples who chose not to believe the women’s report. He didn’t know what to think. He wanted to believe this, but it was so far-fetched! But could they all have conspired on such a tale, deluded by their grief and hope? Had Jesus predicted His own resurrection? And if so, why couldn’t Mark believe it any more than His friends chose to?
As they sat eating in the upper room, it was clear the other women were offended by the men’s skepticism. And yet it did not seem to dampen their enthusiasm. Mark made sure he stayed close enough to hear them recite over and over the astounding events of the early dawn.
Presently a servant stood in the doorway. “The men have returned!”
As one, those in the upper room rose, and Peter and John stomped up the stairs. Peter proved mute due to breathlessness. John, gasping and grinning ear to ear, held up a hand for silence.
“It’s true, beloved! It’s true!”
Peter, catching his breath, gushed, “The youngster beat me to the tomb, but I ducked in ahead of him. The grave clothes remain intact, but the body is gone!”
“Are you sure?”
“I say He is risen!” John said.
“We don’t know that,” Peter said.
“Did you see angels too?”
“Can it be?”
One of the women asked if either of the men had seen Mary of Magdala.
“We thought she was here,” Peter said.
So the women left to search for her.
As the disciples talked excitedly among themselves, Mary Magdalene arrived and stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs. The men fell silent and stared at her.
“I saw the Lord,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Thomas rushed to her and helped her sit. “What? Tell us everything!”
“I was crying outside the tomb, fearing we had all been mistaken and that someone had taken Jesus’ body. But as I stooped to look into the tomb, the angels were still there—one on each end of where He had lain—and they asked why I was weeping. I said, ‘Because they have taken my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.’
“I backed away and turned to see a man I assumed to be the gardener standing there. He said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?’
“I said, ‘Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.’”
Mary stopped and pressed her lips together, fighting tears. “Then He said to me, ‘Mary!’ and I knew. I said, ‘Teacher!’ He told me not to cling to Him, for He had not yet ascended to the Father, but He said, ‘Go to My brethren and say to them, “I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.” ’”
Mark had never seen anyone so radiant as Mary. John had been excited, thrilled to find the empty tomb. Peter still seemed to doubt. But Mary said she had talked with Jesus! Mark wanted to believe her so badly.
Just then the other women who had been at the tomb arrived with a similar story. “Jesus met us on the road,” they said. “He told us to rejoice! We fell and held His feet and worshiped Him. He said, ‘Do not be afraid,’ and told us to tell you that you will soon see Him too.”
T HE REST OF THE DAY was spent reviewing all the accounts, the eleven disciples and many of their associates from Galilee arguing among themselves how much could be believed and what should be discounted. Many ventured out, hoping to see Jesus, but most of the eleven, fearing they would be recognized, stayed in the upper room.
Late that evening, all those who were closest to Jesus—save Thomas—sat around the
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