An Easter Post

This painting has hung in my family room since I was about 8 years old. For a long time I didn't understand what it was.
    This is John the Beloved and Simon Peter running. They have just heard that maybe, just maybe, Jesus has risen from the dead. Look at John's hands: so tightly hoping that it is true, but hardly daring to believe. Look at Peter's eyes: again, desperately hoping that his Lord is alive, but also probably sorrowful for his betrayal three days before. Both of them running and running, and then finding the stone rolled away and the linens folded and empty. I can only imagine their joy.
     I didn't see the linens. I didn't see the empty tomb, or the scars in His hands, feet, and side that stand as an eternal reminder of what He did for me. I didn't see Him. But I can witness of Him, and I know that He lives. He is alive to this very day. And someday soon, I will be running. I will be running to meet Him. And I will finally see the reminders in His hands and feet. But I testify that I will not know better then, when I am kneeling at His feet, than I know today, that He Lives.
     Happy Easter