I’m almost afraid to open emails I’ve been getting lately from my Navajo friends. Each seems to be news of someone who has passed away. I guess that’s to be expected because many of the people I lived with and grew close to are in their late 80s by now. It still doesn’t make it any easier.
The most recent email was about a man whose name means “curly hair” in Navajo. His was salt and pepper gray and in a buzz-cut because his daughter took care of it and wanted the maintenance to be fairly minimal. He was about my dad’s age, but seemed much older and I saw him more as a grandfather figure. He spoke no English, but with my limited Navajo and lots of gesturing and laughing, we managed. I made a special trip to see him when the mission asked me to leave the reservation to work in the Home Office. When I told him I would be leaving, there was silence and then he simply left the room. When he returned, he stood defiantly and declared that I didn’t have to do what they’d asked me to do; I could stay and live with his family. Everything would be okay because I would be his daughter. Sadly, that wasn’t an option. I returned several times to visit my friend and each time received the same welcome: A broad smile and all the mutton stew I could eat. Now he’s gone and there’s an emptiness. I find myself replaying the memories we shared and realize that because of his gift of friendship my life has been extremely blessed.
I don’t suppose it’s any great leap to imagine how those who were close to Jesus felt when they saw their friend horribly beaten and then crucified. The pain and sorrow and emptiness must have been unbearable. All of their hopes had been in this charismatic teacher who said he was God, and now he was gone. Everything his friends had witnessed and all that he had taught them vanished from their minds, leaving them numb with disbelief and doubt. What else could they do but comfort one another and send the women to the tomb after Sabbath to do what needed to be done?
Imagine their surprise—the incredible astonishment mixed, I’m sure, with hilarious joy as they realized the truth. Jesus wasn’t dead! He was alive! Everything he had declared to them was just as he said it would be. By his resurrection Jesus broke the power of death, the curse of sin. People like my friend still die, but like my friend, those who acknowledge Jesus as their savior will also live again. It’s as simple as the familiar words of John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, God offers us the gift of eternal life with Him.
I wasn’t able to attend the service for my friend, but I know it was only the shell of his body that was laid in the ground that day. I also know that we will meet again. I imagine long conversations without the burden of languages we both struggled with. There will still be laughter, because all things will be made new. And we will be in the presence of the best friend either of us has ever had— Jesus, the One who died and rose again.
He is risen! He is risen indeed! God bless you on Resurrection Sunday!
