The Stone Was Rolled Away
Matthew 28:1-10
Saturday was the longest day.
The sun rose and set like any other, but for those who had followed Jesus, the world had come to a grinding halt.
Grief can do that.
It slows time. Thickens the air.
The women—Mary Magdalene and the other Mary—honored the Sabbath. Even in their sorrow, they waited. That’s what faith sometimes looks like: waiting in the silence, holding space for hope when the light has gone dim.
But Sunday was coming.
They Came to Mourn, Not to Witness a Miracle
At dawn, they walked with heavy hearts. Their arms full of spices. Their minds full of memories. They weren’t on a resurrection tour. They were visiting a grave.
They expected to weep.
They expected to honor.
They expected to grieve.
But no one expected this.
The earth trembled. An angel descended.
The stone rolled away—not so Jesus could get out, but so they could get in.
“He is not here. For He has risen, just as He said. Come and see.”
It’s one of the most profound invitations in Scripture.
Come and see.
Jesus Doesn’t Need the Stone Moved—We Do
Jesus had already risen. He wasn’t pacing inside, waiting for someone to unlock the door.
No, the angel moved the stone for the women—so they could see the truth with their own eyes.
So they could peer into death’s stronghold and discover it had no grip left.
The stone was rolled back for them. For you.
Come and see.
Come and kneel.
Come and believe.
Fear Has No Authority Here
The guards froze like dead men.
The women stood trembling.
But the angel’s voice sliced through the fear: “Don’t be afraid.”
Then Jesus appeared. Alive. Glorious. Familiar.
And His first word? “Greetings.”
Not a rebuke. Not a lecture. Just joy.
He could have gone straight to the Temple or the palace. But He met the women first. The faithful. The grieving. The ones no one would have expected to carry history’s most beautiful news.
He Is Risen—and That Changes Everything
The resurrection isn’t a footnote in the Christian story. It is the turning point.
If the cross was the payment, the resurrection is the receipt.
It proves Jesus didn’t just die for sin—He defeated it.
He didn’t just go into the grave—He walked out of it.
And because He walked out, we can walk in newness of life.
Not someday. Not just in heaven.
Today.
From a Cemetery to a Commission
After “come and see,” comes another command:
“Go and tell.”
The resurrection is not just something we receive. It’s something we share.
You don’t need a pulpit or a podcast.
Just a heart that’s been changed and a willingness to say:
“I’ve seen the empty tomb. Let me tell you what it means.”
For the One Who Feels Like They Don’t Belong
Maybe that’s you.
Maybe you walked into church on Easter because someone invited you, and you’re not sure where you stand.
But you’re curious.
Hungry.
Tired.
Then let me tell you gently:
The stone was rolled back for you.
Jesus didn’t rise to shame you, impress you, or weigh you down.
He rose to rescue you.
Your past doesn’t scare Him.
Your doubts don’t disqualify you.
You don’t have to pretend.
Just come. Come as you are. Come and see.
And maybe—just maybe—you’ll find that this story is not just true.
It’s personal.
Death Has Lost Its Sting
This week, our church family felt the sting of death.
Kirsten’s grandfather passed away on Monday.
Tuesday, our beloved friend, June.
We grieve, but not like those who have no hope.
Because we know what they knew:
The tomb is empty.
Jesus is alive.
And resurrection is not a myth—it’s a promise.
So What Now?
Paul gives us the answer:
“Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)
Don’t lose heart.
Don’t let fear win.
Don’t let the ache of the world drown out the truth of the empty tomb.
Jesus is alive.
And that changes everything.
So come and see.
Then go and tell.
Because this joy—it was never meant to be kept quiet.