Easter, Resurrection


A rooster welcomes the sun’s ascent.

Peter, face buried in his cloak, cries all the louder.

“Hush, we say, lest they hear and come for us as well.”

“What’s that you say, Mary? You’re going where?

Yes. Go. Perform for Him what we dare not do for dread of evil men.

Wash His wounds. Anoint His body. Wrap Him in funeral clothes.”

Who’s that pounding on the door? “Mary?

What is this crazy talk? What mean, you Angels? Empty?”

Women cannot be trusted to get things straight.

“The Lord spoke to you? To tell Peter what?”

We must go and see with our own eyes, this of which she speaks,

Although I do not expect to understand.

It is as she said: Vacant tomb. Funeral clothes set aside.

Risen? What does this mean? I do not understand.

What did He tell her we should do? Go to Galilee?

He’ll meet us at home? Home. Then let us be off.  

I feel the darkness lifting as I race to tell the others,

“Gather your things. We’re going home.”

Now, where is your gloating, grim host of Hell?

Your minions weep and scream in torment,

While we shout for joy, “He lives.”

For we have spoken with our Risen King,

O, Happy Day, finally, we understand neither

Gates of Hell nor dankest grave could hold Him.

The Lord is risen. The Lord is risen, indeed.

Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen 
from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee.
 There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.” 
Matt. 28:7 NIV

Copyright © Reflections from Dorothy’s Ridge 2016. All rights reserved

Easter, Jesus


Did He not say light overcomes darkness?

Did he not call Himself the Light of the World,

sent to dispel sin’s crushing desolation?

Yet, yesterday, we watched helplessly as

a cruel instrument of torture

smothered His flame.

We huddle behind barred door, shaking with fear.

Are we next? We strain our ears for clatter of

hobnail boots on the street below,

We weep silently, lest someone hear.

Grief beyond imagination: How could this be,

our Master lying dead in a grave?

Proud night, will you never end?

We cannot see a way out of this city.

O, God. Why did You forsake this One,

Who gave us courage and hope?

O, Morning Star, if only You would shine again.

Light up my soul’s gloomy habitation.

Night creeps toward day and still we wait.

“Watch and pray,” I think He said.

For what? All sense of purpose lies dead with Him

inside that borrowed tomb.

What’s that noise? Soldiers’ relentless steps?

Shush, lest they hear and take us, too.

At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid. 42 Because it was the Jewish day of Preparation<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-26868BG" data-link="(BG)” style=”box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;”> and since the tomb was nearby,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-26868BH" data-link="(BH)” style=”box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;”> 
they laid Jesus there. 
John 19:41-42

Copyright © Reflections from Dorothy’s Ridge 2016. All rights reserved

Devotional, Easter, Eureka Springs

A Sacred Surprise


Grotto Spring at Eureka Springs

I spent last week in Eureka Springs, a town named for the abundance of springs bubbling out of its rocky hillsides. At one time, the waters were believed to provide healing benefits and attracted people from near and far. Now the springs are just stops along the way for tourists exploring the quirky little community.

  One such spot, Grotto Spring, is situated near the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow www.writers colony.org  where I stayed. At this time of year, the town is abloom, just begging for exploration. Within an hour of my arrival, I stuck out to take it all in. I stopped briefly to admire the landscaping around Grotto Spring, but I didn’t venture down into the cave-like structure because I was distracted by its beautiful surroundings. Plus, it looked dark and dank.

During a later trek, my companions mentioned there was a place to leave a prayer at the back of the grotto. I was surprised, and we paused just long enough for me to catch a glimpse of a flickering light within. The cave still looked wet and uninviting, so I didn’t bother to go down the stairs.  However, my curiosity built overnight, and the next morning, I retraced my steps and actually walked all the way down into the small room formed by the bluff above. It was quiet and the air was perceptively cooler. Just inside, a bench jutting from a wall, beckoned. At the back of the structure, I saw the light shining steadily from its alcove.

Except for the man-made floor, the surroundings felt as ancient as the garden tomb. I could almost feel the despair of Jesus’ followers as they placed his body on a similar outcropping and their later confusion when they found the grave open and empty that third day long ago. 

Suddenly the cave took on a sacred feel and I understood why the alcove had been shaped to hold the light. I didn’t leave a prayer, but I said one, and the experience changed the focus of my day as I considered  the significance of the empty tomb. 
I wish you a similar sacred moment today filled with resurrection joy.

He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. Matt. 28:6