It was early, a little after six on Sunday, when three women arrived in the garden. The sun cast long shadows through the trees. They were sure the entrance would be covered.

But they didn’t see what they expected.

The stone had been rolled away. So they went inside, thinking they would find his body.

But they didn’t see what they expected.

Two men were standing there. “He is not here,” they said. “He is risen!”

Now they knew.

They hurried back to tell the others. No one believed them. But Peter and John ran to the tomb anyway, and when they arrived they went inside.

But they didn’t see what they expected.

They saw empty burial cloths and a face cloth rolled up to one side.

Now they knew.

When these two had gone, Mary remained outside the tomb entrance weeping, confused, brokenhearted. At last she bent down to look in.

But she didn’t see what she expected.

Two angels in white were sitting where Jesus had been lying. And when she turned to ask a gardener nearby, what had been done with Jesus’ body, the ‘gardener’ called her by name. “Mary.”

Now she knew.

Late that afternoon, two men were walking to the village of Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem. A man joined them on the way, overhearing them talking of things unbelievable, amazing things. The man asked, “What are these things?” They tried to explain.

By the time they arrived, it was evening. They invited the man to stay with them. At the table the man took the bread, broke it and gave it to them. Suddenly their eyes were opened!

But they didn’t see what they expected.

They recognized him. It was Jesus, the one over whom they had been puzzling. And then he was gone. “Incredulous,” they said. “Didn’t our hearts burn within us on the road while he was explaining the scriptures to us?”

Now they knew.

In his book, What the Dog Saw, Malcolm Gladwell recounts a story of the first Gulf war in which two squadrons of F-15E Strike Eagle fighter jets were sent to destroy the Scud missiles Iraq was firing at Israel. They had the latest navigational and targeting devices onboard, capable of taking high-resolution infrared photographs from four miles up.

How hard could it be to pick out a huge tractor-trailer missile launcher in the middle of the desert? Officials recorded about 100 hits. After the war, the Air Force dispatched a team to determine the effectiveness of the campaign.

But they didn’t see what they expected.

The actual number of definite Scud kills was zero!

The pilots had been operating at night. Depth perception was impaired. Cameras worked only if pointed at the right spot. The right spot was not always obvious. Major General Mike DeCuir, who had flown many of those missions said, “It was like driving down an Interstate looking through a soda straw.”

They had missed their targets.

Now they knew.

I’ve had days like that. I still do. Exciting days when opportunities abound. Love is in the air. Then, suddenly, change happens. The unexpected takes over.

I’m handed a cross instead of a crown.

A stone of unbelief crushes my hope.

Weeds of discouragement cover my path.

Life can be cruel.

What might have been casts an unforgiving shadow.

It really is like driving down an Interstate while looking through a soda straw. When I started out, I expected one thing, but something else happened along the way.

I’ve had days like this, days when I miss my husband or father or grandfather target. I feel bad when it happens, but this is what I’ve learned to do. I ask my best friend to spend some time with me. He promised he would early on, so I never hesitate to call. When we are together, I have the feeling of being truly known and accepted, warts and all. It makes it easier to confess my hurts and misgivings, my disappointments and mistakes. I lay it all out there. The first time I tried it, I thought I might feel better, maybe learn something.

But I didn’t see what I expected.

When I reminded him how far I’d come already, he asked if I saw the finish line yet. I stared as far ahead as I could see, but I had to say, no. So I listened as he called attention to what others were saying they had seen on the way, things I was missing.

What’s the point in that, you ask?

Confessing faith fatigue without caving in to it. Holding on until someone is ready to encourage you, to help you see what’s missing in your life.

That’s the point.

It’s what friends do.

But you won’t see what you expected.

It will be so much better.

Because it’s not just any friend who has been hanging with you all this time. No. It is your Best Friend.

Your Easter Friend!

The sun is rising.

Your Best Friend is risen.

Yes, he is risen indeed.

Now you know!

(It’s Easter. Why not read the whole Bible story: Luke 24:1-8, 13-35; John 20:1-18)