“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.”

— John 20:1

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses…

It was still mostly dark when she arrived in the garden, so early that we can guess she hadn’t slept much the night before. Perhaps she lay awake, wishing for rest, wishing she could unsee what she had witnessed in those last terrible days. And when she did drift off, maybe her dreams were filled with images of her rabbi’s broken body hanging on the cross. Perhaps she heard echoes of his final words over and over again:

I am thirsty… it is finished… woman, here is your son… here is your mother…

The memory of his labored, painful breaths may have lingered with her still.

And now, on the third day after her worst day, she found herself in a garden.

Was she there to mourn, to be close to him again? Perhaps she didn’t even know why she came, but there she was, standing in the garden.

Beloved, I wonder if you find yourself this weary, too. I wonder if you’ve given everything, not just during this Holy Week, but long before it. I wonder if sleep has been hard to come by, your mind crowded with worries beyond your control, with words you wish you had never heard or spoken, with pain you’ve carried in your heart or witnessed in the lives of others.

Even here, in this dark garden, with dew on the roses, feeling utterly alone, you are not alone.

Jesus is there, waiting to call you by name. Jesus, who knows you. Jesus, who loves you, will speak your name, too. And when he does, may you finally find rest.

May you receive the gift of a deep and peaceful Easter afternoon nap, my friends.