The message of the empty tomb

Easter this year was not what I thought it would have been when looking at possibilities several months ago. It’s not the first time my Easter story experience was different from what I had imagined.

Roughly 36 ago I made my first journey to the historic site of the tomb of Jesus. It also wasn't what I thought it would be. I had imagined a spiritual stroll. Instead I found myself in an upstream struggle against a multitude of shoppers, street vendors and tourists. Every few steps, someone would step in front of our group and dangle camels, scarves and various souvenirs. Not only was there no time for reflection, we had to struggle to stay together. We finally turned the corner and headed for the church of the Holy Sepulcher. I thought it would be better. I was wrong.

I expected something simple. I found something ornate. At the time of Jesus, this was a cemetery. Now it's a cathedral covered with marble and gold. Forty-three lamps hang above the traditional spot of Jesus’ tomb. I tried to picture it as it originally was, but couldn't.

People were lined up to go in. Lots of people. I hate waiting in line, so you could probably guess my mindset. Blocking the way in was a black-robed, black-bearded, black-hatted priest who kept on saying, “15 minutes, 15 minutes.” Those might have been the only words of English he spoke, because someone in front responded, “But that's what you told us 20 minutes ago.” The crowd mumbled. I mumbled. Someone muttered about the temple needing another cleansing.

Then came the words, "Come this way.”
Our guide, Jim Flemming, took us behind the crowd and into the back area of the church to a place that didn't look like it was used too often. It was dark. It was musty. It was cold. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a small opening to a rock-hewn tomb. I walked over to the opening, and just like the apostle John, I looked in and then entered. Suddenly, the lights went out. I felt myself in a dark, claustrophobic room that seemed to be closing in. Sharing the experience, a friend whispered, “God put himself in a place like this for us.” After a few long minutes in the dark tomb, the light came back on. With the light came realization.

God put Himself in a place like this for us, but He didn’t stay there. The Christian experience and promise is real, and what was true then is true now. I was in a cold tomb, but besides my friend and myself, it was empty. It had been empty for over 2,000 years. It’s still empty.

The message of the empty tomb declares that what at first seemed like a hopeless end is in reality an endless hope for us all. No power on earth could keep Christ down then, and that no power on earth can keep us down when we are in Christ Jesus now.