By Thomas Moll
Director of Content

They didn’t need the sun to tell them it was morning. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were already awake. Grief has a way of stealing sleep. They made their way to the tomb in the early morning darkness, carrying the weight of loss that only those who have stood at a graveside truly know. Death had seemed to have the final word. And for a moment, walking toward that sealed stone, it still did.

Then the earth shook.

What happened at that tomb on the first Easter morning was not simply a remarkable event in ancient history; it was a hinge point. It was the moment when everything the grave had ever claimed was called into question. An angel, his appearance like lightning, rolled back the stone and sat on it as if to say: “This door will not be closing again.” The guards, hardened soldiers, fell like dead men, and the women who came expecting to mourn were instead told to go and tell:

“He is not here, for he has risen, as he said” (Matthew 28:6a).

Death is the reality confronting all of us. Scripture doesn’t soften this truth, and neither should we. We are sinners, and the wages of sin is death. Every funeral we attend, every diagnosis that steals our breath, and every quiet moment when we sense our own fragility — these are not just interruptions to life; they are reminders of what we are separated from God. The tomb the women visited was real. The burial wrappings were real. The grief was real.

But Easter is about life.

King David, writing centuries before that first Easter morning, trusted in something he could not yet fully see: “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption” (Psalm 16:10). He had a confidence rooted not in his own goodness but in the faithfulness of God. And in Jesus, that confidence was vindicated completely.

The apostle Paul draws the direct line for us. Because Christ was raised, our lives are now hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3). This is not poetic language; it is our present reality. The resurrection is not only something that happened to Jesus. It is something that changes us, right now, today. We are people whose lives are bound up in a living Lord. And because He lives, we shall also live.

For those of us who know what it is to be tired — tired in body, tired in spirit, tired from carrying the weight of years or illness or loss — Easter speaks directly to our weariness. The women came to the tomb exhausted by grief and left running with joy. That is the pattern of the resurrection life. It does not ignore the darkness. It rolls the stone away from it.

Jesus met the women on the road. He will meet you, too.

He is risen. He is risen indeed. And because He lives, so shall you — now and into eternity. That is the whole of Easter, and it is more than enough.

If you are experiencing grief, we invite you to learn about our Grief Ministry and the available resources. Please visit WorshipAnew.org/grief to learn more.