The Empty Tomb

by Bre Strobel

Christ and St. Mary Magdalen at the Tomb, by Rembrandt, 1638

THE EMPTY TOMB

We had come on that third day

To anoint the body of our friend.

When we arrived, to our dismay,

The stone was already rolled away.

The guard was nowhere to be found—

The tomb was empty.

In the garden, I found a man

And fell at his feet—

Clay jar still in hand.

Something about the way he stood

Took my breath—my tears and hair

Fell over his foot,

Clean like a king’s

Except for the scar.

That’s when he said my name.

My friend, my Lord,

Who I saw die three days before,

It was his face that met my gaze.

My heart rejoiced; my mouth made praise.

“Go tell the rest,” he said to me,

Knowing again they wouldn’t believe

The word of God sent through a woman.

John and Peter ran to see for themselves,

Then Jesus appeared to them himself.

And because he is patient with our doubts

For those unsure of the open tomb,

He offers us to touch his gaping wounds,

And see that he is with us.

BRE STROBEL

Bre Marie Strobel is a devotional writer residing in Saint Paul, MN, with her husband and two kids. An advocate for mental health and the creative arts within faith-based communities, Bre Marie seeks to bridge the gap between spirituality and artistic expression. Her monthly Substack publication, Being Beloved, serves as a testament to her commitment to this cause, offering a safe space for those feeling like social outcasts in both religious and non-religious circles. Connect with Bre on Instagram @brestrobel and at www.brestrobel.com.