Cling to the Crucified

[Jesus traveled about from one town and village to another, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God.  The Twelve were with Him, and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out] Luke 8:2

[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).
Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the the Father.  Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"
Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that He had said these things to her.] John 20:10-18

What would it be like to be possessed by seven demons?  I wonder what Mary's life was like before she met Jesus.  Scripture does not tell us.  But I think my imagination can fill in the gaps.  A life consumed by lust, anxiety, and self-loathing.  Despair.  A life without hope and without a future.  She would have been an outcast, considered unclean and outside the reach of God, deserving only of His wrath and condemnation.  How did Mary spend her days before Jesus?  Was she constantly running from the voices in her head?  Did she try to do little acts of kindness, little good deeds, to try in desperation to even out the scale a bit in the face of the crushing weight of her own failures?  Did she wake up some mornings next to a stranger that she did not remember from the night before?  Did she try to buy her way into the temple in a frenzied attempt to make some kind of atonement for herself?  Had the devils that haunted her shredded her soul to the point where death seemed a blessed relief?  When I think of her wandering through the unsavory back streets of Jerusalem, I see a woman hovering between death and life, a woman plagued by Satan to the point of insanity.  I pity this fallen possessed woman, this Mary Magdalene.  This woman with whom I have nothing in common.

Jesus saw Mary.  He saw her.  When everyone else saw her sin and her bizarre behavior and the fact that she was unclean, Jesus saw HER.  He looked upon her ravaged heart and chose to heal and restore her.  She could do nothing to commend herself to Him.  She would never have come to Him on her own.  She had only received condemnation and hatred from the religious leaders and teachers in the past, why should this Rabbi from Nazareth be any different?  And yet, this Jesus.  This man.  This God.  This Savior.  He whose presence made the demons in her head shudder fear and respond in obedience.  What did she feel that first moment when she discovered silence?  The voices had ceased to rage, and, perhaps for the first time in her life, Mary knew Peace.  And He had a name.  Jesus.  The Christ.  He would be her Messiah from that day forward.  In the presence of the God-man the demons had fled, and as long as she followed after Him, the Joy that He offered her kept the lust and fear and the bitterness at bay.  He was her Freedom.  He was her Hope.  On second thought, maybe Mary and I have more in common than I want to admit.

Mary Magdalene was the first person to see the Risen Christ.  She was at the tomb first thing on Sunday morning.  I can only imagine her anguish.  Hope had died.  How could the Sun have risen that morning?  How could light be shining?  The Creator had bled and breathed His last, how dare the birds sing?  How dare the dew glisten on every blade of grass?  I picture her indignation and her blazing anger at the sight of the empty tomb.  How dare they touch the body of her Lord!  How dare they desecrate He whom they had already scourged beyond recognition!  This was to be her last moment with Him, her last chance to honor in death the One who had given her life.  No doubt she turned on the gardener in blinding pain and righteous anger.  But then.  Then He said her name.

This is the moment that I return to over and over and over again.  I think it is my favorite moment in the entire Easter story.  This picture of a woman whose name and identity had once been synonymous with sin and rejection clinging to the One who had given her worth and made her name precious.  Because of the holes in His hands and His feet, because of the stripes across His body, Mary Magdalene was now whole, her past sponged away in the memory of the Almighty forever.  He could have appeared to so many people after conquering death, but He chose to appear to the broken woman who knew that she was nothing without Him.  I cannot pity Mary Magdalene.  I envy her.  I envy her dependence on the Christ.  I envy her closeness to the Lord.  She who was the very first to cling to He who was crucified for her.

And then I remember.  My God is not dead.  He is surely alive.  The right that Mary Magdalene had to worship at the feet of the Risen Savior on that Easter Morning is my right as well, both this morning and every morning.

My sins have been washed away.  I will cling to the Hope I profess.  His name is Jesus.  And He is Alive!