Yesterday
He woke up, the sun already shining. Normally he didn't sleep this late. Usually, he would have been up with the rooster's crow (those birds always had bothered him!). But yesterday had been exhausting. Mentally, physically, spiritually...he was spent when he laid down last night.
But this morning, he woke up with one question on his mind--was it true? Had it really happened? Or had it been a dream?
If it was a dream, it was an incredibly lifelike one. His legs hurt from running to the tomb yesterday. He still couldn't believe John had outrun him, but nevertheless, when they both arrived, they found what Mary had said to be true. The tomb was empty. "He's alive!" John had said. "No, no," he had responded. "This doesn't prove that. Someone must have taken the body."
"I tell you, he's alive," John said, starting to run back to the place we were staying. "Where's your faith, Peter?"
Then had come the long wait. Mary had come back and said she had encountered him in the garden, but still he hadn't appeared to them yet. And he had decided it must be his fault. He had denied the master three times. Maybe if he went away, the master would come to see the rest of them. But he couldn't make himself leave the rest of the group. What was taking the master so long anyway?
It was later in the afternoon when he had appeared and told them to be at peace. Thomas had long ago left, gone for a walk, so he missed out, but the rest of them gathered around the master. So it was true. It was all true. Or so he thought. Now, in the bright light of morning, he wondered. What if yesterday had been a dream?
Well, there were the other witnesses, the ones who had left early in the morning, the ones who lived in Emmaus. They came running back that night, banging on the door, demanding to be let in. "We've seen him! He is alive!" they shouted. He had appeared to them on the road, in the midst of their grief. Surely they wouldn't have dreamed it, too, would they?
No, it was too good to be true. It couldn't be. Dead men don't rise, do they? And yet, with his own eyes, he had seen the master. Hadn't he?
After all, that was yesterday.
He wasn't sure he had enough faith to sustain him today, to help him believe today. Yesterday seemed like a long way away.
"Peter."
He heard the voice. He knew the voice. He slowly turned around, and there Jesus was, standing with his arms open wide. "I'm here, Peter. I am risen." It was like Jesus knew Peter's thoughts. Well, he supposed, if he can rise from the dead, Jesus could know his thoughts, couldn't he?
"What do you want me to do, Master?"
"The joy you felt yesterday, the hope, the faith? Do you remember?"
"Yes, Master."
"I want you to take that and give it away."
Peter gulped. "What if I give it away and I don't have any anymore?"
Jesus smiled. "You will always have enough. When you give it away, you'll find you have more." And then he was gone.
So it wasn't a dream. And it wasn't just something that happened yesterday. It was an event for today and tomorrow as well.
But this morning, he woke up with one question on his mind--was it true? Had it really happened? Or had it been a dream?
If it was a dream, it was an incredibly lifelike one. His legs hurt from running to the tomb yesterday. He still couldn't believe John had outrun him, but nevertheless, when they both arrived, they found what Mary had said to be true. The tomb was empty. "He's alive!" John had said. "No, no," he had responded. "This doesn't prove that. Someone must have taken the body."
"I tell you, he's alive," John said, starting to run back to the place we were staying. "Where's your faith, Peter?"
Then had come the long wait. Mary had come back and said she had encountered him in the garden, but still he hadn't appeared to them yet. And he had decided it must be his fault. He had denied the master three times. Maybe if he went away, the master would come to see the rest of them. But he couldn't make himself leave the rest of the group. What was taking the master so long anyway?
It was later in the afternoon when he had appeared and told them to be at peace. Thomas had long ago left, gone for a walk, so he missed out, but the rest of them gathered around the master. So it was true. It was all true. Or so he thought. Now, in the bright light of morning, he wondered. What if yesterday had been a dream?
Well, there were the other witnesses, the ones who had left early in the morning, the ones who lived in Emmaus. They came running back that night, banging on the door, demanding to be let in. "We've seen him! He is alive!" they shouted. He had appeared to them on the road, in the midst of their grief. Surely they wouldn't have dreamed it, too, would they?
No, it was too good to be true. It couldn't be. Dead men don't rise, do they? And yet, with his own eyes, he had seen the master. Hadn't he?
After all, that was yesterday.
He wasn't sure he had enough faith to sustain him today, to help him believe today. Yesterday seemed like a long way away.
"Peter."
He heard the voice. He knew the voice. He slowly turned around, and there Jesus was, standing with his arms open wide. "I'm here, Peter. I am risen." It was like Jesus knew Peter's thoughts. Well, he supposed, if he can rise from the dead, Jesus could know his thoughts, couldn't he?
"What do you want me to do, Master?"
"The joy you felt yesterday, the hope, the faith? Do you remember?"
"Yes, Master."
"I want you to take that and give it away."
Peter gulped. "What if I give it away and I don't have any anymore?"
Jesus smiled. "You will always have enough. When you give it away, you'll find you have more." And then he was gone.
So it wasn't a dream. And it wasn't just something that happened yesterday. It was an event for today and tomorrow as well.
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| A sunbeam shines on the "tomb," Church of the Holy Sepulchur, Jerusalem, Israel, 2000 |
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