They didn’t wake up expecting a miracle.
They woke up still heartbroken. Still confused. Still trying to make sense of the nightmare they feared might never end. For them, Sunday started as just another day after death.
But Heaven had other plans.
Before the sun fully rose, before the grief fully settled in for another round, something had already happened. The stone had been rolled away. Not to let Jesus out—let’s be clear on that—but to let us in to see with our own eyes what death could not hold.
He was gone. Not taken, not moved. Risen.
The women were the first to discover the empty tomb. (Don’t miss that—God entrusted the first eyewitnesses of resurrection to the ones society often overlooked.) They came with spices to anoint his body, and they left with a mission to share what they had seen. Go. Tell the others.
Shock. Awe. Fear. And who would have expected anything else? As Andy Stanley says, “Nobody expected no body.” But then—joy. The kind that crashes in and shakes everything loose. The kind that feels too good to be true… until Jesus shows up in the flesh.
Scars from the nails visible in his hands and feet and side. Eyes burning with love. Every breath filled with life.
When they doubted, when they were skeptical, when they couldn’t believe their eyes and weren’t sure they could trust their hearts, he didn’t turn them away. He invited them to come and see. “Peace be with you.”
And just like that, the game changed. Everything Jesus had told them finally started to make sense. The Kingdom of God that He talked about? It wasn’t crushed. It wasn’t yet to come. No…it was here. The cross wasn’t defeat, not by a long shot. It was just the the setup for victory. Sin didn’t win. Death didn’t win. Fear didn’t win.
Jesus won. Hope won. Grace won. Life won.
And the resurrection wasn’t just for Him—it was for us. For the shame you carry. The failures you can’t forget. The questions that keep you up at night. The depression you can’t shake. The addiction you’ve fought in secret. The prayers you’ve prayed in desperation. The faith you’re clinging to for dear life. It was for all of it, for all people.
Jesus didn’t rise so we could attend an Easter church service once a year. He rose so we could rise with Him every single day.
The resurrection wasn’t a moment of grief passing. It was a movement of hope beginning.
The disciples who ran and hid on Friday? They became the bold ones who changed the world. Because when you see that the grave doesn’t win, it only makes sense that you’d stop living like it does.
Sunday reminds us that the worst thing is never the last thing. That God writes hope into the darkest chapters. That Jesus always shows up—scars and all—when we least expect Him and need Him most. And because of that, if there’s air in your lungs, there should be hope in your heart that where you are today does not determine where you have to be tomorrow.
Maybe you need a change. Maybe you need a breakthrough. Maybe it’s past that point… you need a resurrection.
Today—this very moment—can be the beginning of something brand new in your life. That’s what Jesus does. He makes all things new. Not just on a Sunday a couple thousand years ago, and not someday far off in eternity. Right now. Right here.
The empty tomb echoes through time as an invitation to begin again. A fresh start for anyone who’s ever felt too far gone, too broken, too tired, or too stuck.
Paul put it this way: “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” (Romans 10:9)
That’s it. Not religious performance, not pretending to have it all together. Just simply believing in the risen Jesus, the One who robs graves and turns funerals into parties.
“He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’” (Revelation 21:5)
That’s not poetic fluff. That’s a promise from the King who conquered the grave. He’s not interested in polishing up your past. When you put your life in his hands, he rewrites your future.
And that means nothing in your life is beyond His reach. He turns graves into gardens, seas into highways, bones into armies…
Man, I’ll tell you… a lot can happen in a weekend.
I mean, Friday was tragic. Saturday was Terrible. But Sunday changed everything.
And it still does.
Leave a Reply