Somber, silent, sacredly,
She ventured to the tomb;
Fearful, fragile, fretfully,
Her mind replayed the doom.
Beaten, stricken, spat upon,
How could this be her LORD?
Hands that once had made her whole,
Now bound by one small cord?
Her mind raced back, she saw His eyes,
How kindly they did speak;
His voice, though mighty, calmed the storms,
And made all fears seem weak.
But what was that…what had He said,
The last time they had met?
She’d asked if He would ever leave,
He’d smiled and said, “Not yet.”
Another time, her mind recalled,
Those words on her beset;
When asked if all would be restored,
He’d sighed and said, “Not yet.”
Her footsteps quickened, fueled by thoughts,
Now drumming in her ears;
“I have to go.”
“I will return.”
“I will make all things new.”
“But till My Father’s will is done,
‘Not yet’ will have to do.”
Racing, running, recklessly,
She hastened to the tomb;
Perhaps, she thought, this was His plan,
Hope splintered through her gloom.
The stone was moved, her heart was too,
Here doubt and faith now met;
It couldn’t be…it had to be…
Had He not said, “Not…yet”?
His body gone, the tomb lay bare,
With hope her heart did pray,
“Master, Savior…Risen LORD,
Did ‘not yet’ end today?”
And then His voice called out to her,
He simply spoke her name;
She fell in full belief and awe,
Death had been put to shame.
“Don’t cling to Me, it’s not yet time,
Though soon I’ll come for you;
While My ‘not yet’ on earth is done,
I still have work to do.”
“I must go and prepare a place,
That you one day will see;
But for a little longer yet,
Will you still trust in Me?”
New hope arose there at that tomb,
Old doubt was laid to rest;
Past words He’d spoken…now fulfilled,
These too would pass the test.
“I will, my LORD, I will stay true,
How could I offer less?
But promise You’ll return for me,”
“I promise, just…not yet.”