No tomb can hold him

A new beginning at dawn

Matthew's account of the resurrection is possibly the most engaging, the most exciting, and the most unambiguous of all the Gospel accounts. It's also, perhaps for that very reason, preached on less frequently than the others. The earthquake, the angel, the dramatic rolling away of the stone — these big, bold strokes can feel harder to handle from a pulpit. But this account has something to say. And it has something to say to us today.

We remind ourselves of that truth from 1 Corinthians: "If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile" (1 Corinthians 15:17, NIV). Easter Day sits at the heart of our Christian faith. Without Easter, nothing seems to fall into place. But with Easter, everything starts to make sense of the ministry of Jesus.

Two things stand out from Matthew 28:1-10. First, the empty tomb. You may say that's obvious, but it's at the heart of it. And second, that Jesus Christ is risen.

The empty tomb

Matthew has followed Mark's account but adds extra dimensions to help us understand what we are seeing in this resurrection. Notice that the women — Mary Magdalene and the other Mary — don't primarily bring spices to the tomb. They bring themselves. They come to observe, to find, to discover what is there.

It's the dawn of a new day, a new week. It is, in fact, a new beginning. A new beginning for them, a new beginning for me, a new beginning for you.

There's no expectation that they would see Jesus raised. The tomb had only been sealed two days earlier. So the sense of challenge, the sense of mystery, the sense of coming to that place is real. The angel points to the earthquake, tells them the stone has been rolled away, and declares that Jesus Christ has been raised. Then the angel invites the women to see the place where he had lain — a familiar place — and instructs them to go and tell the disciples.

Here is something worth sitting with: the women are the first witnesses to the resurrection. If you were to ask who was first there to see the empty tomb, it is the women. People who in that culture were not always listened to in court, not always regarded as having significance and worth. And yet they are the first to carry the news that changes everything.

Jürgen Moltmann, the German theologian who has inspired so many preachers over the years, captures the span between Good Friday and Easter Day in these terms: God weeps with us so that we one day might laugh with him.

What a transformation. Easter is not detached or irrelevant. It is in the tough places of life that we find resurrection. Resurrection is not just some nice story pulled from one corner and given meaning. Resurrection is God meeting us in the very places we need to find him, and finding in that meeting what it means to belong and to believe.

The risen Lord

On the first day of the Jewish working week, the disciples are perhaps hankering for some kind of normality. But nothing will ever be normal after Easter Day.

We're told in verse eight that the women hurried from the tomb, afraid and yet filled with joy. How is it possible to hold those things together? But it seems to me they do. That is the Easter story. There is fear, but there is joy. There is a sense of wonder that combines with something that drives them to respond, to go and tell the rest of the disciples what has happened.

Jesus greets them. They come to him, clasp his feet, and worship him. In verse 10, Jesus says to them: "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me" (Matthew 28:10, NIV). Twice they are told. The angel's instruction is now reinforced in the words of Jesus himself.

Joy out of the worst evil

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote a short confession of faith during the final days before he was executed, just twenty-three days before the end of World War II. He opened that confessional thought with these words: "I believe that God can and will generate joy out of everything, even out of the worst evil. For that, he needs people who will allow everything that happens to fit into a pattern for good."

The same writer concluded: death is the supreme festival on the road to freedom.

Death to resurrection is, for the Christian, the heart of everything. I hope it is for you, for your church, as you start to capture what Easter is about. When we come to Easter Day, it is that celebration that death is now transformed into something far better. It is life itself. Life that is transforming, life that is penetrating, life that brings peace and hope and a new beginning.

Another writer, reflecting on Bonhoeffer's conclusion, put it this way: if he's wrong, all is lost. But if he's right, it's just beginning.

It's just beginning

No tomb can hold Jesus Christ. No door will lock him in.

This Easter, we reflect on a world that is so easily divided. There is certainly plenty in the news of recent weeks that would make us feel sad. But on Easter Day, let's gather the thought that Christ has risen. Take that hope into our lives. Make the journey as the women did, as the early disciples did — to see Jesus Christ and know him as risen Lord.

Of course, everything is different. It is a different world. But we have never needed the message of Easter more than we do today, and the power it brings into our lives.

So this Easter, where do you find yourself? Afraid, yet filled with joy? Searching for normality in a world that refuses to stay still? The women went to the tomb carrying nothing but themselves. They left carrying the most important news the world has ever heard. Perhaps that is where Easter begins for each of us — not with what we bring, but with what we find when we show up.