It was almost an offhand comment, really.
In the middle of the sermon, in the middle of corralling the 6-year old wiggle-worm (how many times can she drop her stuffed puppy on the floor???), but it stuck in my mind and resonated all morning.
"They were the last, and they were the first."
The women, that is. The women who loved Jesus, followed Him, listened to Him. . . . they were the last to leave the tomb on Friday night, and the first there on Sunday morning.
Isn't that just like us? Us women, I mean.
Look. Here I am, up late, doing the things that need doing for my family. (Editor's note: Yes, I know. Blogging does NOT count as "a thing that needs doing". Except for my sanity. So there.) Tomorrow morning, Lord willing I will be up early, getting the day started, doing all those mom tasks that just must. get. done. Often, I am the last to bed. I'm not often the first up (hubby beats me there most days!), but I'm often starting my day's tasks early.
Just like the women who loved Jesus.
Unlike those women who stayed late at the cross, and went early to the tomb - and here's the confession - I am all too often found grumbling. Allowing self-pity at "my lot in life", grumbling at the work set before me.
To my shame.
And it struck me this morning. It was a privilege - a privilege, I tell you!!! - for those dear saints, sisters in the Lord, to be the last and the first. Because if they weren't, they would very likely have missed the miracle, the honor, the blessing of being the first to see the empty tomb.
So I started wondering. Am I missing the miracle, the honor, and the blessing of serving my family, of serving Jesus, through my sinful attitude?
I'm afraid I am.
So let me live as my sisters of old, being the last, being the first. Serving and loving.
And living in Reality of the Resurrection.