What was I supposed to think?

Even in the dark I could see
the stone had been moved
and I screamed at this latest
desecration of his memory.
 
“They’ve taken him
and I don’t know where.
Do something!”
 
They ran to the tomb.
Yes: it was empty!
Yes: the grave clothes
were still there

Yes: our Lord’s body was gone!
 
The men returned to the house –
fearing what this might mean.
 
I stayed with my grief …
 
Dawn was breaking,
but this was a different light …
coming from the tomb itself.
 
Through my tears,
I saw two people,
sitting, in radiant peace,
where his blood-stained
body had been laid.
 
“What do you mean why am I crying???”
 
Outside, the gardener
asked me the same question,
 
“Who are you looking for?”, he said.
 
“Just tell me where he is!”
 
All my frustrations and fears
combined in this one question.
 
Who was I looking for?
 
Jesus!
 
The one who had changed my life.
 
I’d heard him speak such words –
watched as he’d healed the sick,
and raised the dead …
He’d promised a lot,
but, perhaps, expected too much …
 
He talked of a Kingdom in which
Peace and Love were the rule …
He inspired and excited us;
we were encouraged to love God –
and one another – without sin.
 
But then he died!
 
And with him all his promises vanished like the morning dew …
 
This world is too empty now.
Nothing matters any more.
 
None of us can replace him
and without him, we can’t be
what he wanted us to be …
 
“Please, sir, tell me where he is.”
 
Just to see his broken body
once more;
just to anoint him, one more time.
 
Then,
as if I was being stirred
from the deepest sleep,
I heard him gently speak my name –
 
and that’s when I awoke
to a newer, brighter day!