I’m no geologist, so I don’t know the scientific name for rocks that we used to call Thunder Eggs. These marvels were found at a nature park at Mt Tamborine in Queensland, and the best ones were presented beautifully and for sale. About the size of a baseball, and looking very, very ordinary on the outside, they contained on the inside the most wonderful, colourful, crystal formations, that became especially bright when cut and polished.

These rocks come to mind at this Easter season. On our Christian high day of the year, Easter Sunday, the church remembers a rock tomb that had no special beauty from the outside. Just set in a garden and sealed with a stone the size of a thousand baseballs. But from the inside – that is a different story. On the Saturday it was cold, gray, dreary and dark. But early on that Sunday morning, it was full of supernatural light – rays beaming with wholeness and health.

With resurrection actually. Not mere resuscitation, nor a reviving or restoration. But death swallowed up by life. And by life that had become immortal, imperishable, and immune from death. Life physically and psychologically and systematically, perfect and whole. Moving, full of strength and dignity. Breathing, full of health and control. Thinking, full of depth and wisdom. Speaking, full of colour and purpose. And living, full of power and glory – as bright as the sun, as clear as the sky, as pure as the rain, and louder than thunder.