Enough of secrets. Now the truth is out: I follow him and I don't care who knows, I cry, defiant, as the myrrh and blood Trickle down my hands and stain my clothes. I really did it, coward though I am— Asked Pilate for his body. Shame, I think, Is stronger in the end than fear. Shame first Kept my mouth shut, but now it's made me speak. Master, your words have haunted me. You said You'd be ashamed of those ashamed of you. Shamed of my shame, I tend you on my knees, And hope that somehow, even now, you know That it was I who claimed you, binds you up, Made brave by shame, and even more by love.
Happy Easter, friends. He is risen. And because of that, no failure of ours is ever final. The things we regret, the things we’re ashamed of, the opportunities we’ve missed—they don’t have the last word. Christ does. And his resurrection turns defeat into victory, despair into joy, death into life for us as well as for him.
Joseph didn’t know that as he knelt by Jesus’ mutilated corpse that day. But soon—very soon—he would.
He is risen indeed.
Beautiful