Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb. So she ran and came to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him.” So Peter and the other disciple went forth, and they were going to the tomb. The two were running together; and the other disciple ran ahead faster than Peter and came to the tomb first; and stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings lying there; but he did not go in. And so Simon Peter also came, following him, and entered the tomb; and he saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the face-cloth which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself. So the other disciple who had first come to the tomb then also entered, and he saw and believed. For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise again from the dead. So the disciples went away again to their own homes.
But Mary was standing outside the tomb weeping; and so, as she wept, she stooped and looked into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been lying. And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” (which means, Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Stop clinging to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene came, announcing to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and that He had said these things to her.
– John 20:1-18
Insult to injury: these are two things we never like to see added together. There was a moment on an early morning long ago outside the old city of Jerusalem when a woman named Mary felt the sting of insult added to injury.
It was early. The writer of John’s gospel account says it was early enough that the sun had not yet begun its work of lighting the day. She could have waited longer. There was no obligation to go at any certain hour. But Mary was ready. She, Mary the mother of James, and Salome (Mark 16:1) had purchased the necessary spices after the Sabbath ended the previous evening. It is likely they spent some time that night doing whatever preparation they needed to do with the spices. With their hearts still hurting from the death and hasty burial of their dear rabbi, the women surely had no plans to sleep in the next day. Even in death, Mary would spare no effort to honor the man who had set her free to live.
The injury had already happened. Mary, as well as many others, had just experienced the horror of seeing a godly, compassionate man unjustly tried by proud, vindictive religious leaders, then handed over to the cruel hands of a Roman governor who sentenced Jesus to suffer a slow, agonizing criminal’s death. Insult had come hand in hand with the injury to Jesus. Mary and other friends of Jesus had two long, probably sleepless, nights to grieve and relive the events. None of them would have guessed that things could get worse, yet in a shocking moment that is just what Mary felt. She expected the tomb to still be sealed; it was not. She expected the body of Jesus to still be in the tomb; it was not. She concluded what anyone would have in the moment: someone has taken the body of Jesus away. As if the events of the last few days were not enough, now the friends of Jesus face the insult of his body being moved, stolen, and potentially desecrated. Mary runs back to the city and shared the news with Peter and others. Peter and another (we assume John) go to the tomb and see that it is empty. They then leave, but Mary lingers.
Many of us have had times in life when we have come to the end of our strength. Our minds say, “I don’t think I can take any more.” Circumstances have become too great to bear. It is a feeling of being defeated. I believe this is what Mary was feeling in the moment. You can see her posture, can’t you? Head hung, shoulders drooping, tears falling more quickly than she can wipe them away. What do you say to a person in that state? If you are wise, probably nothing at all. There is precious little that can be done by human intervention to brighten the day of someone in Mary’s condition.
God specializes in doing what humans can’t.
Call it a “God moment” if you will. Whatever prompted her, Mary turned her eyes back to the tomb. She had to stoop to look in, so it was obviously intentional. When she looked—in the same place she had looked earlier, mind you—she saw two angels seated where the body of Jesus had been. The angels asked Mary, “Why are you weeping?” This is a question you ask making sure you are not within arm’s length, as you might provoke a physical response along with the answer. But the angels were not trying to provoke Mary, but rather to remind her of what her heart already knew, even if her mind could not comprehend. If Jesus really was who Mary came to believe he was, isn’t there reasonable hope that the story would somehow turn out differently? We know the answer is, “yes,” and this is the moment when Jesus rescued Mary from the spirit of defeat. She turned, saw his face, heard him speak her name, and in that instant she knew the powers of evil had been defeated.
There is an old song called O Mary, Don’t You Weep. At the heart of the song are these lyrics:
O Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn,
O Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.
Pharaoh’s army got drowned,
O Mary, don’t you weep.
The song is obviously one of hope in the face of difficult and anxious circumstances, drawing upon the mighty acts of God in scripture. The reference is anchored in the Exodus 14-15 account of the Hebrew people being pursued by the Egyptian army, pinned at the shore of the Red Sea. With a mighty hand God rescues his people. Seeing the victory, Moses and his sister Miriam (Mary) sing the praise of God who has delivered them. Some people see in the song an allusion to Jesus encountering the sisters of Lazarus near his tomb. I see in the song—and the Exodus account—a picture of God’s ultimate triumph over the powers that defeat us through the death and resurrection of Jesus. On the day we call Good Friday, Pharaoh’s army of sin and death were laid low in defeat. Standing outside the empty tomb with a resurrected Jesus, we can see the evidence of that defeat as (figuratively speaking) the washed-out chariots drift to shore. This is the message to Mary and to all who live in the belief that God has abandoned us to anything less than abundant life.
Easter is our annual reminder that the purposes of God have not been defeated. And if we have been adopted into the family of God by the grace of Jesus Christ, we are given resurrection power to live in victory, not defeat. This is not a message of what some would call a “prosperity gospel,” where we take the promises of God to mean we will be healthy, wealthy, and immune to hardships in life. Rather, it is a message that the power of the risen Christ works faithfully within us to perfect us in the love of Jesus and strengthen us for every good work. The apostle Paul echoed this assurance in Philippians 1:6, reminding the church that “he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”
Friends, there are many in the world today living in a spirit of defeat. People are struggling to make sense of life, dealing with personal struggles in a society that seems to grow more inhospitable every day. Some of these are believers who know the saving love of Jesus, but yet have been in a season of struggle for so long that the spirit of defeat has crept over them. Under the weight of that spirit it is easy to adopt a mindset that God has forgotten you, or perhaps chosen to leave you flailing in the wind of hardship. I say to you, Easter offers the voice of a Savior who says, “I’m not dead, and I’m not finished.”
The Winding Path 