Easter Sunday

I woke up early, just before sunrise, and tried to imagine how the Marys felt all those years ago. Wanting to go to the tomb but knowing it was pointless. Wanting to do something for Jesus, but knowing they couldn’t. But they couldn’t just stay at home and do nothing. They had an urge to do something – they had to go to the place where He was. And what a reward they got. The unimaginable, the impossible, the risen Saviour.