he is greater than the grave

[via]

She ran, the tears coursing down her cheeks, the silent sobs racking her soul. The gentle light of dawn lit the path before her, painting the ground ahead of her with soft amber hues. So it was over. He was gone. Dead. She had watched him die with her own eyes; the blood streaming from his hands and feet where the wicked nails pierced them, the crown of thorns shoved cruelly into his brow.

He had hung there, hour after hour, above the mocking crowds and mourning followers. And His eyes! They had only ever been filled with love, understanding, forgiveness, sorrow--even as the jeers filled the air around His cross.

Until they went lifeless.  For now her Lord was dead.

She had believed He was the One--she still knew He was, no matter what it looked like now.  Yet she had seen them take His body down; seen the soldiers bear it away, bruised and limp. She had wrapped Him in clean white linen alongside the other women, anointed it with spices...yes, He was  gone. Dead. She had watched Him die. 

Now, here she was, hurrying along the path to the tomb where she had left Him. The Sabbath was over; it was time to finish the burial. A bundle of anointing herbs and spices was clutched to her chest, spilling fragrance. The tomb was just ahead.

The trees parted, and there it was. She slowed. The soldiers would be here, stiff and glowering. The huge stone would be there, blocking the cave. Guarding the grave of a dead man. Thinking about it, she almost laughed. Were they really so afraid that--She stopped short. Oh, no. It couldn't be.


The tomb. It was open. The soldiers, gone.

Now she was dropping her bundle, running to the tomb; into the dim coolness of the cave, around the corner to where the body would be--no! Yes! It was gone!--then out again into the bright sunshine, searching in utter despair.

She sank to the ground and wept. They had already taken His life away, could they not leave His body?

A man was coming towards her, and she lifted her tear-stained face. Her vision was blurred, and she tried to wipe her eyes.

"Woman, why do you weep?"

"Oh--oh, sir--"

She was stuttering, barely able to speak. She could not even lift her head.

"Sir, someone has taken the body of my Lord, and I do not know where to find Him."

There was a silence for a split second, and then,

"Mary. "

She lifted her face, and her eyes cleared.

"Rabbi!"

He had risen. Oh, why had she doubted? For He was greater than the grave!

Happy Easter, friends. He rose, He is risen--and He lives. Rejoice! 

caught in the rain //

It rains, and we laugh. Anne is ten-going-on-eighteen in her big sister's winter coat; I think she's two inches shorter than me as of now.

Boom, baby. That's how fast the years have flown. And yet here we are, caught in this moment, with the crystal raindrops splattering around us and the water dripping down our noses.

She holds the big yellow umbrella over us, and we run shrieking from the pine trees as the branches decided to dump a bucket or two. Caught in the rain again. That's Oregon for you.

And so we've learned to dance in it.

Is the sun shining where you are?

dear little girl,

dear little girl who hates her mirror,

you're perfect just the way you are. cliche, I know, but true. you're beautiful, and people smile when they see you smile. Don't forget just who you are.

dear little girl whose only dream is size zero jeans,

skinny is over-rated. Healthy isn't skin-and-bones. If you don't accept yourself now, you never will, no matter your size. You are God's masterpiece. Remember that.

dear little girl who is afraid to love again,

there is a Guy who won't break your heart; who will hold you close and won't let you fall; who will never deceive or use you. Find Him, and you will find healing.

dear little girl who grew up too soon,

life has been tough on you, babe. But chin up--people love you. And so does God.

dear little girl who feels alone,

everyone does sometimes. But it doesn't have to last. You'll never be alone as long as you have Jesus.

dear little girl who thinks she's reached a dead end,

back up. Turn around. And hope; pray.

"There may not be an open door, but there is always an open window."


dear little girl who just needs a hug,

here's one.

look around. do you see the people suffering? ordinary girls, ordinary lives; hurting hearts. hidden wounds. struggling souls. forget yourself, and reach out. I dare you.