Mary Magdalene

Quiet and peace seemed oddly surreal to the women who moved silently through the early morning mist. Already the sun had risen for the third time since he had been taken away and executed. Yet the birds still twittered gently, the scent of flowers still wafted on the breeze, and somewhere a donkey brayed raucously. How could such a day be one of mourning?

Suddenly, the women halted and stood in stunned silence. Following his burial, the Roman soldiers had sealed the tomb with a massive stone and posted a sentry around it. But now the tomb was open, the stone lying where it had fallen.

Cautiously, Mary Magdalene approached. Suddenly, her face paled and the spices she carried slipped from her hands. "He is gone! They have taken him away!" she wailed. Turning, she fled up the path to Jerusalem.

Later, after Peter and John had come and led the others away, Mary sat beside the empty tomb. "Why did they take him away?" she wept. Bending down, she looked into the tomb, hoping that she might find some clue to his disappearance, and to her surprise found that the tomb was no longer empty.

Two men sat where his body had lain. "Why are you weeping?" they asked.

"They have taken away my Lord. Do you know where they have taken him?" A fresh wave of grief engulfed her and she turned to go.

Another man appeared at her side, "Woman, why are you weeping?"

"Sir, where have you moved his body? If you will show me where it is I will take it?" she pleaded.

"Mary," the familiar voice pierced her sorrowing heart. Falling at his feet, her sobs became a song of joy.

"He is risen!" But at first the others did not believe her.

Mary, however, knew his voice and with a simple faith she believed.

Thomas

Thomas paced back and forth. "No, it can’t be! Jesus of Nazareth is dead!"

"But Thomas, we have seen him. He is alive!" Peter’s voice trembled with excitement.

Thomas shook his head and turned to go. "No, unless I see and feel the nail marks in his hands and put my hand into his side, I will not believe."

The following days passed with an excruciatingly slowness as Thomas tried to understand. Finally, in exasperation, he retraced his steps of the prior week.

When he arrived at the upper room, the others were discussing what they would do in the coming days.

Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke, "Peace be with you." Thomas’s face paled. His voice! It cannot be. "Thomas, come. Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Thomas, stop doubting and believe."

Overwhelmed, Thomas stumbled forward. "My Lord and my God," he whispered.

"Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe." He lifted Thomas to his feet. "I have shown you many things so that you will believe on me and accept my gift of life."

"O Lord, I have seen, I have touched, I believe."

Simon Peter

The next day Peter suggested that they return to the fishing trade in Galilee. Several of the disciples agreed and finishing their affairs in Jerusalem, traveled north.

As the days passed, they collected their fishing gear and readied their boat. "It’s been a lifetime since he called us to leave our nets and follow him," Andrew mused.

"Yes," Peter nodded. "My only regret is that in his moment of need I failed him. I cannot forgive myself."

"Peter, you must forgive yourself. He has forgiven you," Andrew prompted.

At last, their boats readied, they cast off. But though they cast their nets repeatedly, at dawn they had caught nothing. As they neared the landing dock, a man standing near the shore called out, "Friends, haven’t you caught any fish?"

"No," they replied.

"Cast your net on the other side of the boat and you will find some."

Peter shrugged, "Go ahead. What will it hurt to try." Pulling in the nets, they cast them to the other side. Suddenly, the boat tipped crazily in the direction of the nets. Working feverishly, the men tried to haul the nets into the boat, but they could not for they were too heavy.

Then John glanced up at the man on the shore. "Peter, it is the Lord!"

Peter, without a word, jumped into the water and swam to shore. As the others towed the bursting net to shore, Peter stood silently beside him.

"Bring some of the fish. The coals are ready for roasting," the Lord said.

Following the meal, He gestured toward the others and said, "Peter, do you love me more than these? Do you have ’agape,’ the highest form of love for me?"

"Yes, Lord," Peter replied, "I have brotherly love for You."

"Then feed my Lambs."

"Peter, do you truly have agape love for me?"

"Yes, Lord. You know that I have brotherly love for You."

"Take care of my sheep."

"Peter," again he pressed, "do you have brotherly love for Me?"

Peter, in deep distress as thoughts of his boasting, his denial, his absolute failure weighed down upon him, exclaimed, "Lord, you know all things! You know that I am giving you the best that I have to give. You know that I have the deepest brotherly affection for you."

Gentle hands reached down and lifted him. "Peter, feed my sheep."

"Peter, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."

Peter stood quietly, remembering his bold pledge to follow him even to death.

"Come, walk with me, Peter."

As they walked, Peter turned and saw John following them. "What about him, Lord?"

"What does it matter, Peter? If he lives until I return, what is that to you? You, Peter, must follow me regardless of what happens to anyone else."

Peter paused, again remembering. The Lord had said something on the day that he boasted, something for him to remember: "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers."

"Oh, Lord," he exclaimed. "I believe!"

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