Nicodemus

Today was a day I will never forget, although I wish I could.
It was terrible.
And also – somehow – hauntingly beautiful.
75 pounds of spices was the least I could do.
Because I believed him when he said he was the Son of God.

I know.
I’m a member of the Jewish council – a Pharisee.
But I believed him.

I visited him at night because I didn’t want to deal with all the questions from the others.
I wanted desperately to talk to him.
He was the most intriguing person I’d ever encountered.
He did things – crazy, miraculous things – you wouldn’t believe.
He answered my questions, but in ways I would never have guessed.
He challenged me like no one ever has.
He spoke in pictures and told stories about things that hadn’t yet happened.

When Joseph asked me to help him with the body, I couldn’t say no.
Joseph was a leader of the council, but even if he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have refused him.
How could I, after what Jesus had done for me?
In one night – with one conversation – he had changed me forever.

Tonight I barely recognized him.
I know I had only seen him at night, but that night we talked for hours.
Now he barely looked human.

I had spices. And a little experience dressing bodies.
But his was bad.
We did the best we could.
And the whole time, I was remembering the conversation we had had.
We spoke about things that mattered.

About the Spirit.
About being born again.
About eternal life.
About darkness and light.

And now the darkness is here.
It seems to have won. 
To have overcome the light.

I wonder, will we see the Light again?

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