In the dead of the night I lay awake, remembering his words as he hung on the cross, his body now resting in the tomb. I had been hovering at the back of the crowd, as I had during his interrogation earlier. Actually, I had followed him and his friends all over the countryside, listening to him. I don’t know why, but I can remember every word he spoke.
I cannot move as the dark clings tightly around me. Eyes open. I see nothing. I hear nothing. Except the pounding of my heart.
Warmth stirs through my cold body. Memories are stirred. His voice echoes throughout me.
“And those who hear will live.” My heartbeat breaks rhythm.
“Now he is God not of the dead but of the living, for to him all of them are alive.” I gasp for breath.
I see a flash of light; the wings of doves beating brightly against a clear blue sky the day he freed them from their cages. And I remember the words “a light for revelation to the Gentiles.”
My body trembles with anticipation for the morning. I am as yet too scared to resist the darkness around me. But I know. I know the smile that now breaks upon my lips is the herald of the joy to follow when the light of dawn pierces the dark of night. Freedom and life for all; living without barriers, without prejudice. I can hear the distant sound of loud- clanging cymbals, the whispering joy of strings and pipe.
The confusion and violence of the past days begins to yield to the call to respond. Not yet, but soon.