Mary was standing outside the tomb crying, and as she wept, she stooped and looked in.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw someone standing behind her. It was Jesus, but she didn’t recognize him. “Why are you crying?” Jesus asked her. “Who are you looking for?”
She thought he was the gardener. “Sir,” she said, “if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him.”
“Mary!” Jesus said.
She turned toward him and exclaimed, “Teacher!”
“Don’t cling to me,” Jesus said, “for I haven’t yet ascended to the Father. But go find my brothers and tell them that I am ascending to my Father and your Father, my God and your God.”
So Mary Magdalene turned and ran to tell the disciples.
And Jesus walked on, following her steps. Until he stopped and spied another figure in the bushes.
“Zacchaeus,” he says quietly and the figure steps forward, eyes wide.
Jesus smiles at him.
“Is it really you Lord?” Zacchaeus says, “we heard terrible things.”
And Jesus nods. “How’s Jericho?” he asks.
“Really changed since you came by, word spread when I started giving everyone tax rebates. Now they all want to meet you.”
Jesus nods and walks on, until he spies another figure hiding.
“Martha, it’s all right, it’s me.”
And she tentatively steps out, and offers him the drink she has bought. And they spot a rich young man a little further on, his hands loaded down with his money. And then a couple who have lost everything, and a soldier who was there at the cross. A then a waiter from the wedding at Cana. These figures, looking small, yet growing in stature as he calls them out from their hiding places.
And they walk on, and every so often he spots another figure, frightened, cautious, full of questions… hoping against hope that they might see him.
And so it goes on, down the ages, and across the globe, we wait and place our hope in this man of resurrection, longing to see more, to know more, to trust more.