dark days after Easter

And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

perhaps we like to think such darkness--trembling and astonishment--seized these women for only a moment.  but they were very afraid, and that's where the story ends, with no recovery (unless you count v.9-20).  today i want to dwell with them in their darkness.

so quickly we are to think that their fear was temporary and look to matthew's Gospel as if to assure ourselves that they did in fact go and tell the disciples and peter.  but that was not the point.  mark does not tell it that way.  Jesus had come, declared God's kingdom at hand, healed many, taught, rebuked and rejected falsehood; then strangely, He gave Himself up and died a terrible death.  and then, as His followers tried to move on as expected after such an outcome, they ran into something all the more strange:  some stranger in white clothing saying that He rose and is going ahead of them into galilee . . .

persistently, i am behind Him.  slow to understand, slow to see, like the blind man who begins to see blurry images of men that looked like 'trees walking.'  and there He goes again, far ahead, back to galilee where we began, somehow having traversed the valley of death.  and the story ends with such dreadful confusion--trembling and astonishment. 

in many ways this is how i am everyday.  each morning, waking into the darkened, curtained bedroom, covered by sheets, with the light from the window appearing as a curious enchantment rather than illumination.  surely the morning comes, but why?  how?  am i to live on, today, as if rested, renewed, from sleep?  it takes much time to wake up from my own dreams, and then eventually, the day ends, again, in the dark bedroom as i fall asleep. nevertheless, knowing that the events did indeed take place, i also know that there is only one place i must go:  to follow Him, wherever He leads.  

how odd, and beautiful, it is that light still shines in darkness--and that the darkness understands so little.