23 55 The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid. 56 Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.
24 1But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. 2 And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.4 While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel. 5 And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? 6 He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise.” 8 And they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles, 11 but these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. (Luke 23:55-24:11 ESV)
“24 1But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb. Look at where these women are on Easter Sunday. The women find themselves in a painful place. Here on Easter Sunday, they find themselves in a very painful place.
This particular place is a cemetery. On Good Friday—that’s an odd name, isn’t it, for the day when Jesus experienced more pain than is even fathomable—how come we call it “good” Friday? But on Good Friday, the women watched the painful torture and crucifixion of Jesus. They watched his body placed in a tomb. They purchases spices and ointments. They rested on the Sabbath.
An on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb. Could there be any more painful place? This is a place where it seems that all their hopes, and all their dreams, and all their goals had come smashing to an end.
And the angels (Luke calls them “men” here, but later in Luke 24 they are called “angels”) ask the women a question: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?.
In other words, the angels are asking this: “What are you looking for? Here in this painful place, what are you looking for? What are you looking at?”
That’s a pretty insightful question. What are you look for? What are you looking at?
It’s very clear, isn’t it, that the women were looking at one thing: In this painful place the women were look for the loss. All they could see were the tombs. All they focused on was what seemed to be lost—for good. Their dreams, their hopes and their goals—lost. As they entered the cemetery, all they could picture in their mind was the beaten and bruised body of Jesus. The loss.
And because the women in this painful place were only looking for the loss, it led them to do some strange things. Strange to us. But not strange to them. A few hours ago, after sundown on Saturday, when the Sabbath was over, these women purchased spices. And in the custom of the day, the women have come to apply the spices to the decaying body of Jesus. Here’s how strange this is: they have come to put deodorant on death. They have come to apply robust fragrance to rotting flesh. Why? Because all they can envision in this painful place is all that has been lost.
Too many times the same is true for us. We also find ourselves in painful places.
Sometimes, as with these women, the painful place is a cemetery. For example, on Good Friday—there’s that strange term again!—I found myself in the painful place of Edmaiston-Mosely Funeral Home in Union City. Many of us had gathered to memorialize the mother of Highland member Jody Abbott. And while we did some celebrating, there’s no doubt that there was some pain as well.
Sometimes our painful place is in a place of a lost relationship. We’re feeling the sting of the end of a friendship. We feel the discomfort of yet another family conflict. We feel the unbearable pain of a divorce.
Sometimes our painful place is a place of lost goals. We didn’t make the team we hoped we’d make. We didn’t get the invite to the formal dance we were hoping for. We didn’t even get invited to apply for that job we’ve longed for.
We often find ourselves in painful places.
And we often do just what the women did. In painful places we focus on the loss. All we can see is the death of that loved one. All we can envision is the loss of that relationship. All we can focus on is the end of those goals.
And sometimes that single-minded focus leads us to do some pretty strange things. We seek revenge on the person who caused the loss. Or we turn entirely away from God—for the rest of our life—because the loss must have been his fault.
There is such a thing as “good” grief. It is appropriate to lament—that’s the biblical word for mourning over a loss. When you’re in a painful place, you can’t just pretend there is no loss. You have to acknowledge it. You have to process it. And thus, you have to look at it.
Thom Long has researched funerals throughout human history. And one of the things he writes is that today, too many funerals are about helping the mourners “get over” the grief rather than helping them “go thru” the grief.
We have to grieve. For a period of time we have to look at the loss. Yet sometimes that loss leads to a pathological grief, a “bad” grief.
Once again, we need to hear the question asked by the angels: “What are you looking for?” Because they are implying that there’s something else to look for besides the loss. There’s something the women are not seeing.
I’ve been watching a show on the BBC called “Sherlock.” It’s a modern retelling of the story of police consultant Sherlock Holmes and his co-worker Dr. John Watson. And for much of the first season, a certain scenario was played out again and again. Holmes and Watson would arrive at the scene of a crime. They would begin looking over the scene. But after about five minutes, Sherlock would say, “Watson, let’s go.” And as they conversed with one another while leaving the scene, Holmes would awe Watson with a list of the dozens of things he had seen and their implications regarding the crime. And Watson would say, “But Holmes, I didn’t see any of that!” And Holmes would say, “No you did see, but you didn’t observe.” In other words he was looking right at the same thing that Holmes looked at, but he didn’t observe what Holmes observed.
That’s why these angels as the question: “What are you looking for?” “In this painful place, what do you observe?” The implication is that there is something else to observe besides the loss.
In their painful place, the women were called to look for life. They should have expected life to be present in this cemetery. “After all,” the angels remind the women in vv. 6-7, “Jesus said that he would rise on the third day.” They only saw the loss. But now they were being called to look for life. They were called to something even stranger than applying deodorant to death. They were called to walk into a painful place and look for and find resurrection life.
In our painful place, we, too, are called to look for life. When we find ourselves in painful places, we are called to not just see the loss, but to also look for life. We should acknowledge the loss. Mourn it. Process it. But we should also look for life. We should look for signs of renewal, restoration and resurrection even in that painful place.
In his book The Jesus Creed Scot McKnight shares the story of Margaret Ault. Margaret was a Ph.D. student at Duke, where she met a man, fell in love, and married him. One of the things she and her husband loved to do was to walk through the gardens on the campus of Duke. They became such a fixture in the gardens that when Duke decided it was time to add to the gardens, they asked Margaret and her husband to supervise. Sadly, one year, Margaret’s husband died. She was grief stricken. Yet she continued to visit the gardens. One late winter day, Margaret walked the gardens. And here’s what she wrote: Where peonies were promised, there were only the dead stumps of last year’s stalks; where day lilies were promised, there were unprepossessing tufts of foliage; where hostas were promised, there was nothing at all. And yet I know what lushness lay below the surface; those beds that were so brown and empty and, to the unknowing eye, so unpromising, would be full to bursting in a matter of months. Is the whole world like this? Is this what it might be like to live in expectation, real expectation, of the resurrection?
The angels are telling us that the same is true about all painful places. On the surface, all we can see are promises that have been cut short and dried away. But just below the surface, life is waiting to burst. And if we’ll just look for it, we’ll find it.
Eric Gentry and I recently had lunch with a Highlander who’s become good at looking for life. Awhile back he was in a very painful place. A family member had some mental health issues. There was some abusive behavior. Things spiraled downward. It was a very painful place.
And he acknowledged that pain—while it was happening and even that day at lunch with Eric and me. But he did something else. He looked for life. I walked with him during that time and I was struck how on many occasions he would be able to look into that pain, and see something living that God was doing. And as we ate lunch together that day, he continued to recount all the ways that God had brought renewal and healing and life even in the midst of pain. We are called to look for life.
Highlanders Michael and Paula Head have excelled at looking for life. On March 7, they took their eight-year-old daughter Carson to the doctor because of her knee pain. They figured it was some minor issue. But after examining Carson, the doctor ended up telling them he thought Carson had Osteosarcoma, bone cancer. The diagnosis was later confirmed at St. Jude.
Well, when something like that happens, it’s easy to focus only on the loss. It’s easy to become overwhelmed at the loss. And Michael and Paula have grieved and mourned. But one thing they’ve also done is this: they have looked for life in that painful place.
I had the chance to sit with them for about an hour one afternoon while they were waiting for Carson’s treatment to be completed, and I was struck by their ability to see life. And as I’ve read their updates on Caring Bridge, they have written extensively of large and small ways in which God is alive even in this very painful place.
Here’s what Paula wrote (3/19/14): “Keep the prayers & posts coming, we are continually amazed every time we look at her caring bridge that there are people all over the world praying for our sweet angel. I have asked God many times in the last week, “Why Carson, and why us and why does something like this have to happen?” I don’t really know the answer to that… Yet through the darkness God always seems to bring a ray of hope in a post that I read, or a card, or a text, or a Bible verse. ” That’s a couple who is looking for life.
Earlier this month they wrote (4/1/14): “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it every day since that awful day of March 7th; God is getting us through this just one day at a time. And once again without fail He has provided just what we needed just for today! Thanks be to God!”
Even in that painful place they are finding life.
By the way, that’s why they call Good Friday “Good.” Because even there, even in the most painful place on the planet, life came bursting forth.
So, what are you looking? This Easter Sunday, what are you looking for? Hear the message of the angels. Look for life. Even in the most painful place, look for life.
