Every year for the past however many years, I’ve participated in “Jesus, the Risen 1K” which, based on my own amateur research, is how far Peter (and Mary, John, and others I’m sure) ran to the tomb of Jesus when he (they) were told Jesus was no longer in the tomb. Can you imagine that plot twist?
I really like imaging myself in that situation. The people who were devastated by the death of Jesus, mourning and confused for a handful of days, then all of a sudden everything changed. I’m sure that was a moment that lived in their memory for the rest of their lives.
“Hey, remember when Mary came running up and told us Jesus’s body was gone? That was wild.”
A moment in history that literally means so much in the Christian faith (see how I’m less dramatic than I was in yesterday’s post!?). So on Easter Sunday, I put my running shoes on, along with my Garmin watch, and run approximately 1.2 km, or about 0.75 of a mile. That distance still makes sense to me for the time in which all of this happened. There weren’t cars, bikes, etc., so I believe most of the things that happened were in a short walkable distance… or in this case runnable.
-Out of the Wilderness
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Out of the Wilderness 