It’s a hard day, Easter Saturday. It can feel like it makes no sense to any of us. Why did it have to be that awful? Why was there so much pain and weeping and mockery? Was there no other, easier, way? And what sort of ending is it that after all of that, Jesus’ body was taken down and wrapped in spices, because it was going to rot. Today at our house on Easter Saturday, we’re making a puzzle. It’s all in pieces at the moment and it makes no sense at all. Nothing fits together and we can’t see how it will end up, ever. Except that we have the picture on the box. And the picture on the box reminds us that there was something bigger than anybody (back then, or even today), could comprehend or imagine. The tomb was found empty and the body wasn’t there. It had no need of spices because it wasn’t going to rot. Jesus rose from the dead. The story wasn’t over then, and it’s still not over, today.
