Monday, April 09, 2007
The Tomb Was Empty
Soft as a murmur,
passed from ear to ear
from those who had known him,
had followed him
had cared.
The tomb was empty.
Some no doubt,
went to see the place,
a garden tomb,
its stone rolled away,
not in place.
The tomb was empty.
Guards were questioned
who ran away,
facing death
but what could they say?
The tomb was empty.
A certain glow
was upon her face,
That woman who followed him
to the cross that day,
then to his burial place.
The tomb was empty.
Those who ran
and hid away,
something changed them
come that first Sunday.
The tomb was empty.
Like the faintest sound
gathering force
a whisper, a soft voice
growing louder
a thundering chorus:
The tomb is empty!
Resurrexit!
Alleluia!
Amen!
Susan E. Stone, 2007
passed from ear to ear
from those who had known him,
had followed him
had cared.
The tomb was empty.
Some no doubt,
went to see the place,
a garden tomb,
its stone rolled away,
not in place.
The tomb was empty.
Guards were questioned
who ran away,
facing death
but what could they say?
The tomb was empty.
A certain glow
was upon her face,
That woman who followed him
to the cross that day,
then to his burial place.
The tomb was empty.
Those who ran
and hid away,
something changed them
come that first Sunday.
The tomb was empty.
Like the faintest sound
gathering force
a whisper, a soft voice
growing louder
a thundering chorus:
The tomb is empty!
Resurrexit!
Alleluia!
Amen!
Susan E. Stone, 2007
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Easter Meditation
O Lord,
it is so easy to identify with you in your passion,
where pain and grief and death
come together in that great sacrifice
you offered to bring us home to you.
How well I know the touch
of pain, and tears and fear.
But yet, how hard it is to grasp that miracle
come Easter morning, and like Mary Magdalene,
so often I wander the garden confused and in tears,
searching for you, Lord of my heart,
You, who through your death and resurrection
have been transformed into who you really are,
filled, not emptied,
full God and fully man.
It is an amazing thing.
one I cannot truly grasp.
Like the apostles and disciples,
we can only catch fleeting touches of you,
for your glory is more than this mortal flesh can bear for long,
a moment upon Mt. Tabor,
a breaking of the bread at Emmaus,
morning by the Sea of Gallilee.
O Lord, firstfruits of all those who bear mortal flesh,
O Lord, God who breathed upon the waters when time began,
O Lord, Bridegroom preparing the home for his bride,
Help me see you Lord,
in the glory of the sunrise,
in the voice of the hungry child,
in the touch of loving concern,
in the gathering of your saints,
in the Bread of Life,
in the touch of your hand on my life,
in that whisper of hope that will not go away..
O Lord, like Mary in the garden,
may I hear your voice and know,
in amazement and joy who it is who calls my name,
and like her, look up and see your smiling face.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
it is so easy to identify with you in your passion,
where pain and grief and death
come together in that great sacrifice
you offered to bring us home to you.
How well I know the touch
of pain, and tears and fear.
But yet, how hard it is to grasp that miracle
come Easter morning, and like Mary Magdalene,
so often I wander the garden confused and in tears,
searching for you, Lord of my heart,
You, who through your death and resurrection
have been transformed into who you really are,
filled, not emptied,
full God and fully man.
It is an amazing thing.
one I cannot truly grasp.
Like the apostles and disciples,
we can only catch fleeting touches of you,
for your glory is more than this mortal flesh can bear for long,
a moment upon Mt. Tabor,
a breaking of the bread at Emmaus,
morning by the Sea of Gallilee.
O Lord, firstfruits of all those who bear mortal flesh,
O Lord, God who breathed upon the waters when time began,
O Lord, Bridegroom preparing the home for his bride,
Help me see you Lord,
in the glory of the sunrise,
in the voice of the hungry child,
in the touch of loving concern,
in the gathering of your saints,
in the Bread of Life,
in the touch of your hand on my life,
in that whisper of hope that will not go away..
O Lord, like Mary in the garden,
may I hear your voice and know,
in amazement and joy who it is who calls my name,
and like her, look up and see your smiling face.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
Labels: Easter, Praise and Thanksgiving
