Heavy dust hung in the stagnant air. A stench of dying flesh mixed with oils and fragrant perfume permeated the cold stone walls. Pitch black was pierced with slices of light cutting through the suspended dust. Nothing moved. No hope. Only death.

Suddenly a sharp sucking breath split the silence!


Sitting upright, the body of the recently lifeless Jesus coughed and spat and wiped the dust from his face. He pulled in a full breath, and let it out. Smiling, he sat quietly feeling his breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Just breathing.

Finally, he shifted his weight and turned his body letting his feet slide off of the stone slab he’d been resting on. He stretched his arms wide. Almost. He had to free himself from some of the funeral clothes still draped about him. He stretched wide now, free of the wrappings. Free of death. Another deep breath.

He stood, stretched at the hips, rolled each of his ankles, and walked toward the giant stone blocking the tomb. The dust swirled behind him in the wake of his movement. The light slipping past the edges of the stone glinted in his eye as he approached. He didn’t pause. He continued to walk forward right through the stone. He squinted and continued through the giant rock and into the sunlight. He felt the warmth on his face and paused. Another deep breath.

Stepping past the guards who were unaware of his presence, he grinned and gave a small wave to the host of angels watching with bated breath. Then whistling “Up From The Grave He Arose”, he strolled down the garden path toward Galilee.

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