Mary
Mary dressed in her best clothing, donning the mantle she’d originally embroidered for her wedding to Isaac. That was all in the past now. She was still young, and she might marry someday, but it would be to an honorable man, a man who revered the Lord and lived his days in goodness.
She couldn’t deny the many times her thoughts turned to Horeb, and it seemed that he watched her as well. His comment about wanting to be more than a business partner to her brother still clung to her mind. There had been no chance to speak more of it, though.
“Are you ready?” Martha said, cracking the door open to Mary’s bedchamber.
Yes, Mary was ready, and it was a rare moment that her sister had to remind her of things that were important. Dawn had just barely graced the sky, but by the time they reached the other side of the Mount of Olives where Jesus was buried, the morning would be bright.
“Coming,” Mary said, turning to see her sister’s gentle expression of wariness. It was no wonder. Mary had spent most of yesterday crying, but today, she felt stronger, cleansed somehow. Her grief was but a small moment in the plan that the Lord had for the salvation of the entire world.
And today was the third day. Would He rise today the same way her brother had? Would she see Him?
Mary joined Martha at the door, and the two of them went downstairs. Martha had already prepared a meal for those in the household, although they were still sleeping.
Only Lazarus met them in the gathering room. “Ready?” he said with a smile.
Mary nodded, then walked out the front door with her brother and sister. Horeb would be joining them, and this sent a flutter through Mary’s heart. Horeb was one of those good men, a man she could see a future with. But she wouldn’t think of herself today. No, today would be about ministering to Jesus.
Prepared as always, Martha had brought along spices and food. She was ready for any necessity.
Horeb was already waiting by the village wall, and he straightened as they approached. After a simple greeting to her family, he smiled at Mary.
Despite all the emotions that had been crashing through her for days, she smiled back. But with Horeb, there was no use hiding any of her thoughts. He moved to her side. “You are well?”
“I am better,” she said with a hitch in her voice. She didn’t know what Lazarus had told him, but she didn’t mind that he was privy to her more personal part of life.
“I feel I have been tortured,” Horeb said.
Mary looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know whether to weep for the mocking and abuse that Jesus went through at the hands of His own people or to rejoice that He has redeemed all men and women and provided a way to eternal life.”
Mary exhaled. “I know what you mean.” Tears burned in her eyes, but they were not ones she was ashamed of or ones she needed to hide.
“I do know that I am grateful to you and your family above all else,” Horeb said. “If it weren’t for Lazarus—”
“I know,” Mary said with a quiet laugh. “I have heard this story many times.”
Horeb chuckled. “So you have, but I will never stop telling it.”
Her smile widened, and her pulse leapt all over the place. “I have no doubt.”
Horeb’s warm, brown eyes connected with hers, and in them, she saw the love he had for her brother, the love he often professed. But she also saw something else: a love that extended beyond Lazarus to her.
“Mary . . .” Horeb said in a quiet tone. “I hope you know how much I esteem you. Yes, I came to Bethany because of your brother, but there are many more reasons than him to stay.”
“You are a kind and gracious man, Horeb,” Mary said. “Our family is fortunate to have you as such a good friend.”
“I hope to be more.” Horeb’s face had grown somber, an unusual thing for him. “Perhaps now is not the time for this discussion, but I hope to be more than a friend to you. Someday. When you are ready.”
Mary knew the warmth coursing through her body had nothing to do with the sun.
“There’s Mary Magdalene,” Martha said before Mary could come up with any sort of reply to Horeb.
Mary looked away from Horeb, and sure enough, Mary Magdalene was coming toward them. They’d nearly reached the tomb on the slope of the Mount of Olives.
Mary Magdalene’s mantle was askew, revealing part of her dark hair, which gleamed in the morning light. And . . . she was nearly running.
Mary’s breath caught. Had something happened? Was it . . . something to do with Jesus?
Before she could question anyone in the traveling party, Mary Magdalene cried out, “He is risen! Jesus has conquered the grave!”
Mary’s legs felt weak, and she could barely comprehend the words, but her heart soared with the news.
Mary reached for Mary Magdalene’s trembling hands and held on tight as she told of finding the stone rolled back earlier that morning when she showed up to the tomb.
“We asked ourselves, ‘Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre?’” Mary Magdalene said. “We entered the sepulchre, expecting to find Jesus’s body wrapped in linens, but instead, we saw two men standing there in shining white garments.”
Mary frowned. “Who were they?”
“They were angels.” She released a slow breath, looking among the family members. “One said, ‘Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was crucified: he is risen; he is not here: behold the place where they laid him.’”
Everyone stared at Mary Magdalene. Her voice was stronger when she continued. “He said to go our way and tell Jesus’s disciples, including Peter, that Jesus will meet them in Galilee.” She brought her hands to her heart. “As you can see, we were stunned. We ran from the sepulchre and found Simon Peter and John where they were staying. At first they didn’t believe us.” Tears formed in Mary Magdalene’s eyes. “I testify to you that the Lord had risen. He is no longer in the tomb.”
Mary pulled the woman into her arms and held her tight. “We believe you, my friend. The prophecies have been fulfilled, and the Lord has broken the shackles of death.”
“That is not all,” Mary Magdalene whispered. She lifted her head. “After Simon Peter and John left, I remained by the sepulchre and continued weeping. Two angels were still inside, one sitting at the head and one at the foot where Jesus had lain. The angels said, ‘Woman, why weepest thou?’ And I told them I was weeping because they’d taken away my Lord and I didn’t know where he’d been laid.”
Mary watched Mary Magdalene carefully, marveling at the unfolding story.
“I turned away from the tomb then and saw another man,” Mary Magdalene continued. “I did not recognize Him and thought He might be the gardener. He asked me, ‘Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?’”
Her tears started again, and her voice shook as she said, “I told him that if he’d relocated the body of Jesus, I would take the body away. But then, He called me by name, ‘Mary.’ And I knew who He was.” She paused, gaining stronger control over her voice. “It was Rabboni, our Master.”
Martha gasped, and Mary reached for her sister to steady her.
“I was so stunned,” Mary Magdalene continued, “that I reached for Him. He said, ‘Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.’”
Mary wiped at the tears dripping down her cheeks. “The resurrected Lord showed Himself to you, Mary Magdalene, and you have been His messenger.”
She nodded. “I have delivered my news to the disciples, and now I have delivered it to you.”
Lazarus stepped forward. “Where are the disciples now?”
Mary Magdalene met his earnest gaze. “They have assembled inside the city in an upper room behind closed doors, waiting for further instruction.”
“Then we will join them,” Lazarus said.
When the group arrived at the upper room with Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of James, everyone turned to greet them. James rushed over to embrace his mother.
“Come in,” he said, greeting Lazarus, Horeb, and Zachary as well.
The women found an area on one side of the room where they sat and visited for a while. Only ten of the twelve disciples were in the room. Judas Iscariot had died, and Thomas wasn’t present. As the day wore on, Martha shared the food she’d brought, much to the gratitude of the disciples. Broiled fish, honeycomb, and bread were the only selections, but no one complained.
Mostly, Mary listened to the disciples as they spoke of the last week of Jesus’s life and the parables He taught even knowing that the trial was coming. Both Horeb and Zachary asked questions. The disciples also asked after Leah and the new child. Lazarus beamed as he reported that all was well.
In the early evening, someone appeared inside the room next to the door, and everyone went silent.
Simon was the first to speak. “Master,” he said, falling to his knees.
Mary stared as Jesus walked into the room. Was He an angel? A spirit?
Jesus took a few steps into the room and stood in the midst of them. “Peace be unto you.”
Mary gasped. His voice was the same. His eyes were the same.
The other disciples backed away as if they were afraid or uncertain.
“Why are ye troubled?” Jesus said, His voice resonating through the room. “And why do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.”
He wasn’t a spirit, Mary realized, but a resurrected man, though not like her brother, Lazarus.
She looked at Horeb. He nodded, and they shared a look of wonder; he had understood the same thing she had. She took comfort in knowing that she was here with her family and Horeb and that they were all witnessing this together.
Jesus’s gaze traveled the room as He extended His hands. The nail prints were dark with blood, and Mary looked down at His feet. Again the nail prints showed clear on His feet. And at His side, the spear wound was also visible.
The disciples sank to their knees before Him, marveling that He was alive again.
Jesus listened to the exclamations, then asked, “Have ye here any meat?”
Simon Peter smiled. “We have broiled fish and honeycomb.”
Mary watched Jesus take the food and eat. He was real. He was not a spirit but a resurrected man of flesh.
After He’d eaten, He cast his gaze about the room again, taking in those who were there. “These are the words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me.”
Mary nodded. She’d studied the laws, the prophets, and the psalms.
“Thus it is written,” Jesus continued, “and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day.”
Mary felt Lazarus’s gaze upon her, and she looked over at him. These were the very prophecies he’d taught her about. Martha linked arms with her, and the sisters sat close together, listening.
“And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem,” Jesus said, His voice low but firm.
Mary leaned close to Martha. “Jesus wants the disciples to continue His work.”
“Yes,” Martha whispered.
Then Jesus motioned for everyone to gather closer. “Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you.”
Mary felt goose pimples rise on her arms. Jesus was bestowing blessings upon the disciples to continue the work. She listened with rapt attention, wanting to remember every single word Jesus spoke throughout the night.
He had acknowledged the others in the room, but His words were mostly for His disciples. Mary became so engrossed in Jesus’s teachings she hadn’t even realized the entire night had passed and dawn had arrived. She should be tired. She should feel tired, but all she felt was awe and wonder.
When Jesus took His leave, His disciples followed.
Mary hung back with her family and Horeb and Zachary until the way was clear for them to travel back to Bethany without others questioning them. The experiences they’d had were too sacred to share right now.
“Jesus is asking His disciples to meet Him in Galilee,” Lazarus said in a quiet voice.
“Will you go?” Mary asked her brother.
He scanned her face, and she didn’t miss the hope in his eyes. Placing her hand on his arm, she said, “We will watch over Leah for you.”
Lazarus nodded. “I know you will, and I appreciate the offer. I’ll need to speak to her first.”
“It has been a happy day,” Mary said in a soft voice.
“Yes,” Lazarus said, squeezing her hand. “Let’s go home and share the news with Leah.”
Martha joined them, and the sisters linked arms as they walked back to Bethany in the light of the morning sun.
Mary felt Horeb’s gaze upon her more than once, but she didn’t need to look at him to know that their hearts and minds were one.
So much had happened since meeting Jesus. So many miracles and beautiful words had been spoken. Mary knew that her life would never be the same.
The walk back to Jerusalem was filled with silent reflection on everyone’s part. Mary could not believe the ways in which her life had changed over the past few months, both with her interactions with Jesus and with the arrival of Horeb.
Once back at their home, Lazarus and the others immediately went into the house to share the news with Leah. But Mary remained in the courtyard, reveling in the quiet of the approaching twilight for just a moment longer. The beauty of the violet and burgundy colors across the horizon made her heart full.
A shuffle of footsteps behind her caused her to turn around. Horeb was leaning against the wall, his focus upon her.
“I thought you turned off at the grove,” she said. Horeb had said goodbye to them earlier.
The darkening sky made him a silhouette against the wall, but she could still see the warmth in his eyes—those eyes she’d become so fond of.
“I did turn off, and after checking on some things, I changed my mind about remaining there for the night.” He straightened from the wall. “At least, I wanted to speak to you first.”
“About what?” Mary asked in a light tone, although her pulse had begun to race as fast as a chariot.
“Mary . . .”
She drew her robe closer, although she wasn’t in the least cold, as Horeb took a step toward her. She merely watched him, waiting, wondering if this was the moment . . .
“I have been crippled most of my life, but now that I’ve been made strong, I have hoped for things I’d never dared to before.”
Mary tilted her head. “What are you hoping for, Horeb?”
Beyond them, the oil lamps glowed from inside the house, and above them, the moon and stars were creating their own light.
“I am hoping that someday I might be able to provide a home for a wife and family,” Horeb said.
Mary couldn’t help the desire to tease him. “I am sure you will.”
“Mary . . .” Horeb shook his head with a smile. “I have never felt this way about another woman, and I never thought I would. But it would be my honor to take you to wife and provide for you the rest of my days.”
They were the words that Mary had hoped to hear, though she hadn’t admitted it to herself before. And on this day of all days. It was nearly too much, and her emotions surged.
“You’re crying?” Horeb asked.
Mary wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I suppose I am.” Then she laughed.
Horeb looked very, very confused.
“Oh, Horeb,” she said. “I’d be honored to be your wife. But don’t try to talk me into a double wedding with my sister, because I want my own.”
Horeb’s expression went through about four different variations. Then his face split into a grin. “You . . .”
Mary was suddenly pulled into his arms and pressed against his chest, confirming that his heart was beating as wildly as hers.
“Mary,” he murmured. “Am I dreaming?”
“Not unless I am too,” she whispered against his warm neck. This embrace was perhaps the nicest thing she’d ever experienced.
“Can I speak to your brother now?” Horeb said, pulling away and grasping her hands, his face so intent and so hopeful.
Mary laughed. “Yes, you may speak to him.”
Horeb released her hands, then hurried toward the front door. There, he paused and looked back at her, his grin nearly brighter than the moon. “I still feel like I’m dreaming. What if I go inside and discover it has all been my imagination?”
Mary returned his smile. “Go, Horeb. I’ll be here when you return. I promise.”