Joy in the Morning: Sorrow's Transformation at the Resurrection

The disciples departed the sepulchre with quickened feet, yet their understanding lagged behind their joy. As a traveller who journeys through darkness, aware only of dangers that lurk unseen, then pauses at dawn upon some lofty eminence to behold the very path he traversed—suddenly perceiving beauty where he once perceived only dread—so the disciples, when enlightened from above by the Resurrection, recalled the scenes of their Master's passion and rejoiced in truths they had not comprehended in the hour of His death.

The death and departure of Christ were to His followers as the fabled statue of Memnon, which emitted mournful sounds in the night, yet sang melodiously when the sun arose. When Elohim's morning light broke upon them, how sweet those facts—once sorrow-laden—became.

In the economy of divine gardening, the rose must sometimes be deprived of light and moisture; every earthly leaf must drop before celestial bloom visits the soul. Sorrow ministers to joy; our deepest joys are often but the tender shadows cast by our sorrows. The Risen Christ met the women with "All hail!"—bestowing upon those who loved most, suffered most, and possessed clearest spiritual eyesight the blessing of the earliest benediction of His resurrection voice. In that compensation for the vulnerability of love itself, Christ honours those whose faith-faculty stood most ready to recognize Him.