Our Presence Matters

Easter reminds us.

Easter and the days preceding it hold all our myriad emotions. Thursday brings confusion – what is Jesus trying to tell us as we eat with Him – things too difficult to comprehend but also comforting and reassuring. The garden brings disappointment in ourselves, knowing that probably we, too, would have slept as he groaned and awakened to the sounds of the soldiers moving toward us. We feel the disciples’ incredulity at what is happening – why is Judas leading the mob toward us, how could he do this thing? And then when they take Jeus, we scatter with the rest, afraid of what might happen to us, struggling to make sense of what just happened.

There was a time when this story was too hard to read, the loss of it too much for my soul. I avoided it for a long time, afraid that my own losses would overwhelm me in reading about Jesus’ crucifixion. So ghastly. So horrible beyond words.

But then as I read, something different stood out to me. John tells us that present at the cross were Mary, Jesus’ mother along with her sister. Mary Magdalene was there and John. Four people. Perhaps others watched from farther away but they were there. With Jesus.

And this is what struck me for the first time. They were there even though there was nothing they could do. But still, their presence mattered. Even though their hearts were broken, inconsolable in their loss, they came. They could not imagine Him dying alone. They were not hiding, they simply stood at the foot of the cross and bore witness to the cruelest act in human history. Their love was greater than their fear, more potent than their disappointment.

Presence matters. Being there has purpose. When we put aside our own discomfort and fear, and are simply present, it matters.

This observation helped me see that in my own inability to change what is happening in the life of another, simply being present means that they are not alone. Even if I couldn’t do anything, change anything, or even say anything that would help, being there matters.

I imagine Easter morning. While it is still dark, Mary arrives at the tomb. She has come to honor Jesus in the only way she can now, by caring for his body and now, and when she sees the stone is been rolled aside, it seems even that has been taken from her. She runs to tell Peter and John, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and I don’t know where they have put him!” ¹

Imagine her confusion. She saw him die. She was there. Now she must return to the tomb, needing to be present again, She leans over to look inside the tomb, and though there are two light-bright angels sitting there, that fact does not register. Again she says, “they have taken the Lord’s body and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Her loss is so great, she cannot bear this, too.

John’s beautiful words, pierce our darkness as we read.

“She glanced over her shoulder and saw someone standing behind her. It was Jesus, but she didn’t recognize him! “Why are you crying?” he asked her. “Whom are you looking for?”

“Sir,” she said, “if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him.”

She has lost the thing more important to her in this moment – the ability to be present for him, even in death. She hears a voice, but her grief has altered how her senses work. Her ears can’t hear the familiar tones of His voice – until Jesus says her name. If someone would only tell her where to find Him.

“Mary!” Jesus said. She turned toward him.

“Master!” she exclaimed.

I wonder, if this privilege and joy – to be the first to see the risen Savior, is tied to her willingness to stand at the cross and be present in His death.

Oh, the things we will miss, if we are unable to be present in the hard, the difficult, the unimaginable. Oh, the hope that will rise within us, in spite of the horror, because we were present. “His life is the light that shines through the darkness—and the darkness can never extinguish it.”²

This Easter morning, we echo the Easter greeting of the ages.

HE IS RISEN!

HE IS RISEN, INDEED!

1. John 20

2. John 1