Mourning the Darkness

Nightfall after someone we love dies must be one of the bleakest and loneliest moments. When I found out Karl had died, it was already dark, but suddenly the evening that had seemed cool and serene just moments before became bleak and lonely darkness. I remember lying awake for hours crying and wondering how the darkness seemed so much heavier than the night before.

I imagine that John took Mary into his home the night of Jesus’ crucifixion and encouraged her to eat though she had no appetite. I imagine he washed her feet remembering how just a day before Jesus had washed John’s. I can picture her climbing into bed as John blew out the light and Mary began to weep because it reminded her how the light of the world had been snuffed out. I can imagine her thinking the night had become the darkest ever–and, indeed it had.

How dark the world must have been the first night that Jesus lay in the tomb. How grieved and lonely his mother must have felt. How lost his apostles must have felt. How much the separation must have grieved the Father.

We cannot begin to understand the joy and power of the Resurrection if we don’t ponder the sacrifice and loss of the first born perfect Son of God and the dark and devastatingly bleak night that fell after Jesus died.

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