From Holding to Remaining
“Don’t hold onto me.” - Jesus (John 20":17)
These are the words of the very recently risen Christ to His beloved friend and disciple, Mary Magdalene.
She thinks he’s dead. She is mourning the loss. She’s looking for signs of His remains. She hears His voice. She hears her name. She sees His face. And she throws herself in consuming relief onto His body. Curiously, then, the same Jesus who says, “remain in me” (John 15) utters these confusing words.
As far as Mary is concerned, the last three years of being with Jesus, walking side by side with Jesus, witnessing His miracles, being healed inside and out, and being transformed by His present love is absolutely, without question, as good as it’s ever going to get. What could be better than having the Lord to hold? What could possibly be greater than the last 3 years of ministry? Surely He’s returned in the flesh - not to say goodbye to a chapter - but to return to, even relive it, right?
What a surprise, then, that these are the words delivered to her. What a surprise when they are delivered to us.
I’ve been meditating on this exchange in John 20 for some time now. Hearing Jesus’ own voice speak them to me every time I find my hands closing and clinging to former ways, former seasons, former desires and former experiences of God. Entering into Mary’s call not to let go of the person of Jesus, but our experience of Him in a previous time. Maybe for you, like our family, that has meant letting go of a ministry, a neighbourhood, a church, a community, a city, a way of life. Maybe it has meant releasing your grasp around a faith tradition, a version of yourself that was more certain about things, or a pace of life that once seemed sustainable and good.
I’m sure Mary didn’t understand at the time that by releasing her hold on this Jesus of her previous experience, she - and the whole world - would get to receive Him forever by the Spirit. Honestly, maybe she wouldn’t have cared. Because truthfully we often want the Jesus we have always known. The fond times with Him we remember: the good ol’ days. And we don’t want to give them (Him) up - certainly not for something as elusive and risky as the “unknown.” So we cling to. We hold tightly onto. We remain - not in Him, but in a moment in time that has already fallen to the ground ready to nourish another year’s resurrection. And yet still in those vulnerable moments our Lord returns to meet our embrace for a final face to face goodbye to the way things have always been. Leading us from desperate grasping to faith-filled abiding. From familiar forms to fresh awakening. From control & predictability to a Holy wind you can’t contain in human hands.
After all, you hold onto something you’re afraid to lose. But you remain in something that is holding onto you.
We, like Mary, are safe to be unsure. Safe to grief. Safe to long for. Safe to let go of. Safe to go without knowing. For we have a God of infinite holding, who remains.