Living Resurrected

I found myself hanging around the tomb of Jesus more this year after he had already been resurrected. I felt drawn to that space. That’s where I felt seen and heard. The women who came to care for the dead body of Jesus represent me and my story in a new way.

They said things and carried feelings that I too have said and experienced. (Men who are reading, you are invited to see yourself there too.)

The women as they are going to the tomb when it is early and while it is still dark

 are asking, “Who will roll the stone away from the tomb?” When they are confused, an angel encourages them, “Remember how he told you…?” Then they (the women) remembered his words.

After they saw that Jesus was not there, the women left the tomb with fear and great joy and also, they said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.

Lies shout in my head. Sometimes the shouting is loud. 

Maybe with time they’ve been a bit muffled or maybe I’m learning not to listen. 

The recordings play on.

My high school teacher said, “I wouldn’t give a plug nickel for anything she says.”

A fellow church member said, “It’s a good thing you can sing, because you don’t have anything to say.” 

A family member said,  “You need to be quiet.” 

A colleague said, “They don’t want you to speak.” 

People who were threatened by my voice found all kinds of reasons to stop me from speaking. My hair was too short, my earrings too big, I was too friendly, I wasn’t wearing the right clothes, and mostly, I was not a man.

This is the tomb I was buried in. A diminished, voiceless place.

I had the feeling that those who tried to quiet or kill my voice would have happily buried it and put a heavy stone over the opening to keep it there.

The thing about a voice is that it was created to speak. That’s its job… or it ceases to be a voice.

I’ve spent much time around the grave of my life. 

Eugene Peterson calls it grave-tending. 

Grave tending looks like me wondering if it will always be this way. Laying in bed in the early morning hours and making the trip over and over again to the tomb in my life. Wondering who will help me with the heaviness blocking my true self. Knowing I can’t move it by myself. Staying quiet because I’m afraid to disclose my grave secrets.

In this post resurrection season, I recognize that when Jesus busted out of the tomb he nullified those lying and defiling voices for me. He did the heavy lifting. The resurrection reminds me who I really am, my true self with the voice I’ve been given. 

I have (mostly) left the grave-tending life, but I confess I left with fear in addition to my great joy.

Walking into my resurrected life is not easy. 

The voices still linger. I am still challenged by those who want me to stay quiet for whatever reason. I listen to my voice in a recording and I sometimes still cringe. What do I have to say?

Thankfully, Soul Care has taken the place of grave-tending. 

It is practicing resurrection.

I share this part of my story because you, whoever you are, are a person of great dignity and worth and your voice matters. God created you and all of you matters.

Last night, after experiencing a close encounter with the goodness of God on resurrection day, I laid in bed before falling to sleep knowing in my heart that even with the scars in my soul and the constant reminders of those scars, the resurrection happened and made a difference. I can leave the grave knowing this.

I notice Jesus walking with me and his scarred hand is holding mine as we leave the tomb. Walking into who we really are.

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