A Sunday like no other

A Sunday like no other

This is part three in a 3-day series in celebration of Easter

(Written by Temiloluwa Ala)

Peter’s POV

 

The morning was quiet but the atmosphere was laced with sorrow. I watched Mary magdalene and her namesake pack sweet spices and I did not have to be told that they were going to the grave. It was the third day. The third day after Jesus was hung on the cross and buried. The third day since hope had been lifted from their hearts. The third day since they abandoned Jesus and watched him suffer from afar. The women left the house and I sobbed in secret hiding from the rest of the disciples that had gathered.

 

It was Mary Magdalene that came back first. Her eyes were heavier than when she left. She panted and struggled to breath.

 

“What is wrong?” I asked her.

 

“The tomb,” she said and John the Beloved came closer to us. “The stone has been rolled away.”

 

“Did you go in?” John said.

 

“No, I was too terrified. What if they have taken the Lord?” She cried.

 

I ran out. Could it be that he had risen like he said. No! I beat myself in the head. The pharisees must have taken him. John ran faster ahead of me. I met him staring into the tomb but he did not go. I did not have that kind of patience. I sped into the tomb. It was empty, except for the linen clothes and napkin with which he was wrapped. John came in behind me. We saw the empty tomb but we could explain nothing of it so we left. Magdalene stayed and a few hours later, she came back. She told us she saw the master. We longed to see him. Cleopas and one of friends came and said they saw him too.  I longed to see him, to hear him teach and explain all that was going on. How did he die?

 

But I remembered what the Angels had told Mary and her namesake. “He is not here, he is risen.”

 

Jesus had once said, “The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and the third day rise again.”

 

That was it, he died but he has risen. Jesus is alive.

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