Once I met Jesus, I couldn’t stop following Him. Like a moth, which sees the light of a flame and can’t fly away, I was caught up in His radiance. Many have speculated that I started following Jesus after being caught in adultery, when Jesus bent down and wrote in the sand to defend me. Others believe it was me who poured the fragrant oil from an alabaster jar over His body. I’ll leave these stories for you to make a decision about. History has determined not to reveal the identity of these women and so I too, will do the same. I would rather focus on the moments that the scriptures do have me present at.
Like I’ve said, following Jesus was like second nature to me. There was nothing He said that I didn’t long to understand further, to gain a deeper understanding of. I watched as He healed others like me; outcasts, people who were dying and already dead, sinners, scoundrels. They listened to Him too and followed Him.
I learned that leadership for Jesus wasn’t about being king (although He is), it was about being kind, gentile, meek and genuine-hearted. It was about telling the truth even when it was hard for some to understand and impossible to others. Jesus knew that some of His teachings would fall on deaf ears. He understood and volunteered for the risks involved in spreading such a controversial and counter-culture message – that He was the Messiah.
That message is what led to His suffering. The same deaf ears that refused to believe and understand His message crucified Him. There, Jesus died in my place, in your place. And it is here that the scriptures first make mention of me. I was one of the women who followed Jesus and ministered to Him on his way. The other women and I sat and watched from a distance as Jesus was tortured and put to death.
In His suffering, I saw the same qualities expressed from Jesus as I did in His teaching. He went to his death without complaint. The same meekness I had heard him speak about was now boldly displayed in the silence and obedience of his suffering. This lesson made a strong impression with me but it wasn’t the greatest lesson Jesus ever taught me. That lesson came three days later.
Jesus’ mother and I, along with some of the other women, prepared Jesus’ body for burial. After we had laid him to rest, I walked away with questions in my heart. It wasn’t that I questioned Jesus’ claim to be the Messiah. Instead I wondered exactly how His ministry would continue now that He was gone. How would His prophecies be fulfilled? I remembered His words to Martha on the day her brother was raised from the grave, “I am the resurrection.” Those words haunted me now, crept into my thoughts in the midst of my grief like bright sparks in a dark room.
One morning I was making my way to the tomb when I noticed something was different. To my astonishment the tomb was empty. Peter, who was with me, bent down to peer inside. We were told by two men in dazzling white clothes that Jesus had risen, that He was alive! I am ashamed to say that I did not believe the men. I hardly believed Peter when he confirmed what they said by reporting the emptiness of the tomb. It took a long time before the reality set in.
Jesus was alive.
His promises were true.
He is the resurrection.
This was the greatest lesson of all – that Jesus was who He said He was. All the claims he made were made in truth and his teachings, promises and prophecies were real. It was easy to follow Jesus because He didn’t just tell the truth, Jesus is the Truth.
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