Do you ever intentionally revisit a happy place, like an old friend? The place your husband proposed, the house you grew up in, or the street on which you mastered the art of riding a two-wheel bike? If not in person, perhaps you, like me, revisit old places in your memory and there, meet familiar faces and moments when you see your story being written ever-so-intentionally, with love.

A few years ago, I made a visit to the church where I became a Catholic – the church where I was baptized and received my First Communion over twenty years ago. There, I looked back into my story and marveled at the transformation that occurred within those sacred walls. It’s one that had to be written ever-so-intentionally, with love. Because I started with nothing. I was the young girl who, in that very church, pointed to the crucifix, and asked her dad, “What is that?” I was the girl who stood on her toes in order to reach the baptismal font. The 10-year-old girl who learned for the first time that she was actually made in the image and likeness of God and was created simply to know, love, and serve Him. Being in that place brought me back to a place of transformation in the very core of my soul. It was humbling and rewarding, to say the least.

These past few weeks brought us “back” to the story of our redemption too, much like the story of my conversion. We made our annual walk through Holy Week and journeyed from the cross to the crown. Easter came with all it’s glory! And the story continues.

Of all the places the story of our redemption has taken me these past few days, oddly enough, I find myself lingering longer at the empty tomb. I know I should be rushing around Jerusalem at this point with the apostles and disciples, exclaiming “Alleluia” in a flurry of excitement, disbelief, and holy fear. I should be seeing Him with the holy women, walking with Him on the road to Emmaus, and thrusting my hand into His open side.

Instead, I return to the tomb. I find this quiet, empty place to be one full of promise and peace. 

I imagine myself not alone in the desire to go back. In fact, I KNOW I’m not alone. Mary Magdalene returned to the tomb a second time in search of the missing Savior. The angel’s words were not enough. She boldly asked where He was taken and received the gift of recognition in return. “Mary” Jesus called her by name. And she believed. (JN 20:15-16)

I imagine Mary Magdalene returning to that place, over and over again, as if to relive that moment of recognition. Wouldn’t you? Even in her eagerness to share this news with the apostles, I see her turn back on the road to Jerusalem as if to take another look at the place of transformation – even for just an instant. Unlike one woman’s audacious “looking back” that turned to salted stone, this look turns back a much different stone again in our memory. 

As I stand there in silence, I see so much more than the empty space before me. I see a story, written ever-so-intentionally, with love.

I see once impossible places in my own heart – dark, cold, and broken places. Memories of my “worst case scenarios” becoming realities in the form of wounds, loss, trauma, and hurt. I hear echos of myself once saying, “I will never be able to recover,” and “This can never be made right again.”

And then – There is light. The once impossibly dark spaces are now filled with light by the Greatest Gift of Selfless Love. 

And oh, what an enormous amount of light fills in that tomb – no crack, crevice, or hole is left unchanged by His presence! The hard memories of the past become realities of healing and hope like I never thought possible. In the tomb, I see those “worst case scenarios” become the catalyst for my life’s greatest redemptions. 

They come in all shapes and sizes – forgiveness, strength, experiences, loved ones and friends, and most of all – a healing, growing, thriving heart.

And I know He’s writing a similar story, ever-so-intentionally (with love!) for you, too.

He calls you back to life. He forgives your greatest offenses. He heals your deepest wounds. His mercy pours forth from the empty tomb and brings light into your darkest places.

What do you see when you look at the tomb, my friend? 

Is it dark with loss of grace from sin? Filled with pain, regret, or addiction? Maybe your tomb is one of grief and loss, empty with longing for another. Is it loneliness you bear?

Or perhaps your tomb as a broken heart! I heart feels like it is beyond repair. A heart that is called improved and torn to pieces. A heart that feels unable to be mended.

I linger at the empty tomb because that is where the transformation occurred. I stand there, like I stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, marveling at the beauty that can come from layers of dirt and sand. I stand there, as if in disbelief that the place I am looking for or out in front of me is the same place  impossible place I knew once before. 

Come and stand with me dear friend, at the end of your heart come and ask him to cast His light inside! Wait for it – and you will hear him call your name. Then, you will know and believe that he is writing your story ever-so-intentionally, with love.

“Behold, I make all things new.” (REV 21:5)

With Love, Mary