We know from the gospel accounts that Mary Magdalene had quite a past. We don’t know details, but at one point Jesus drove seven demons out of this woman (Luke 8:2). That alone tells me that she is a deeply devoted follower of Christ! How can your life be transformed that radically and you not be completely committed to Your Savior? Add to that the fact that she was part of a group of women who followed Jesus, caring for his needs (Matthew 27:55-56) – this is a deeply personal connection. She has probably done their laundry in the river and worked on those stubborn stains, she has cooked their meals, she has voluntarily served and been available and witnessed the day to day activities of this God-man called Jesus.

No one knew her like Jesus. He had seen her at her very worst. I’m sure she wrestled with knowing the evil that was in her past, and yet when He looked at her, she saw no condemnation, no mockery, no insinuations of her guilt. She saw forgiveness. She saw love that she had never experienced before.

She knew Jesus in a way few people ever would. She knew Him well as the Son of God, healing the sickness of her soul. She heard Him teach with power and authority even as He compassionately touched the crippled and set aside “important” things to hold little children and laugh as they babbled to Him about the silly nonsense in their heads. She knew His favorite foods, the intonations of His voice, His mannerisms and facial expressions.

And suddenly, she found herself witnessing His torturous death along with the other grief-stricken women who had followed Him. (Matthew 27:55-56) I cannot even imagine the depth of their agony. Were they silent? Were they angry to see what was happening? Who was the first who could even utter a word? I sometimes wonder if I could have even stayed. How awful must that have been? Even in our deepest anguish, can we match the depth of pain of watching the One they knew was the Christ be murdered before their eyes?

We know that they stayed, for Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” were present when Joseph of Arimathea laid Jesus’ broken body in the tomb and sealed the entrance with the stone. (Matthew 27:59-61) What was it like to walk back home? To think that the One you believed would change the world, the One who you thought was the Promised Messiah who would make everything right again, was lying dead in a tomb never to live again? I imagine there were no sounds but the soft thuds of their footsteps on the dirt path as they walked back to where they were staying. Surely the question in their minds was “What now?”

We don’t know what happened on the Sabbath. I wonder if they were in hiding out of fear of the Jews, as we find the disciples doing after the resurrection. First thing on Sunday, though, we find the women walking to the tomb, intending to anoint Jesus’ body with spices. (Mark 16:1-3) An act of love, but they must have been dreading the task. They expected to find His dead body, grieve and mourn and honor Him the best they could, and go back – to what?

In her wildest imagination Mary could not have anticipated the experience that awaited her.

Then the disciples went back to their homes, but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher).

John 20:10-16

Today I am thinking about my Rabboni. The One who knows the depth of my sin and chose me for His own. The One who washed away my guilt and sees me through eyes of love. I long to know my Jesus as Mary did – not just to study Him as an academic exercise of mind, but in the depth and core of my being to know Him.

As we think about His death and agony on the cross, praise the Lord that we know the end of the story! He is risen! He is risen indeed!

And one day (hopefully soon!), we will see Him face to face.

One day I will hear Him say my name.

Oh what a day, wonderful day, that will be!

Image from wikipedia.org