Celebrating the finding of Jesus’s tomb that housed no bloodied body is understandable, but the tomb wasn’t actually as empty as it appeared. The cave that sheltered the body of God in the flesh, was full of the abstract properties of love, forgiveness, grace and hope. Following this holy example of accepting death as a stepping stone to life can help us bust through obstacles that seem as immovable as the stone the soldiers placed at the tomb entrance to prevent Christ’s followers from moving His body.
They didn’t count on life rejuvenating from within the rock walls of the cave. They didn’t know about the power of light conquering the darkness and most definitely didn’t comprehend that God’s power which created life, also was able to resuscitate the dead.
Sometimes the boulder I am trying to move doesn’t budge and I am tempted to round up a jackhammer, but when I have done this in the past, I usually end up moving only my guts which are vibrating at top speed. When I stop fighting the inevitable change, the transfiguration that is stirring beneath the circumstance, the stone just rolls away with a nudge.
The secret to this, I have found, is finding acceptance within what often looks like an empty slot in my schedule, or an empty room in my house, or even a general feeling of emptiness, of not being complete somehow. Once I accept the feeling or factors beyond my control, the stone of doubt tumbles off revealing a path I hadn’t even noticed lie beneath the brush—revealing a peace and joy I hadn’t expected, but very much appreciate.
On a recent hike, butterflies entertained me as they fluttered about the trail, but it wasn’t until my walk was over that I heard their message. A gorgeous, yellow butterfly lying dead in the parking lot seemed to speak to me and reminded me that it’s only through death, of a concept or a lifestyle, that we expand our lungs enough to permit a breath of fresh air to enter.
Accepting death in life will create room for new, more glorious experiences than would be possible without the rebirth that lurks at the entrance of every catacomb. What may at first appear to be emptiness, therefore may simply be the space for the grace of new beginnings
No need to buy a jackhammer, this grace is free.
Michele Zirkle Marcum is a native of Meigs County, author of “Rain No Evil” and host of Life Speaks on AIR radio. Access more at soundcloud.com\lifespeaks.