In this article:
Chapter 13: Joseph of Arimathea
Chapter 14: The Spice-Bearing Women at Dawn
Chapter 15: Mary Magdalene in the Garden
Chapter 13: Joseph of Arimathea
The Quiet Council Member Who Finally Stepped Into the Light
(with Nicodemus, His Midnight Friend)
1. Opening Story: When You Finally Speak Up—Too Late?
Most of us know what it feels like to speak up too late.
You sit through a meeting where a bad decision gets made. You feel that tightness in your chest, the quiet inner protest: This isn’t right. But you keep quiet. You tell yourself it’s not your place, or you’re not ready. Maybe the timing isn’t good. Later, replaying it in your mind, you think, Why didn’t I say something when it mattered?
Or you watch a friend drift in a dangerous direction. You see the warning signs months ahead, and you consider having the hard conversation, but you hesitate. You don’t want to jeopardize the relationship. Time passes. By the time you finally reach out, the damage seems done. Too late you tell yourself. I missed my chance.
Joseph of Arimathea knows that ache.
He is a respected, wealthy member of the Jewish council. He loves God’s law. He is “a good and righteous man” who has been watching Jesus for some time. Somewhere along the way, he becomes a disciple in his heart—but a secret one. He believes quietly while the council debates loudly. He disagrees with their decision to kill Jesus, but his protest is private, and the verdict stands.
Jesus is condemned, flogged, crucified.
By the time Joseph acts, the worst has already happened. The Teacher he admired is dead. The opportunity to defend Him in life is gone. It seems like there is nothing left for him to do.
And yet, on that awful afternoon, when many of Jesus’ public followers are in hiding, Joseph does something astonishingly brave. He goes straight to Pilate and asks for the body of the crucified Christ. Joining him is another quiet believer: Nicodemus, the Pharisee who once came to Jesus by night. Together they perform one last act of love and honor.
It looks, from one angle, like an act that comes too late.
From heaven’s angle, it becomes a crucial turn: the moment when secret disciples finally step into the light—and unknowingly prepare the stage for the empty tomb.
2. Scripture Window: Asking for the Body
“When evening had now come, because it was the Preparation Day, that is, the day before the Sabbath,
Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent council member who also himself was looking for God’s Kingdom, came.
He boldly went in to Pilate, and asked for Jesus’ body.”
(Mark 15:42–43 WEB)
“He came therefore and took away his body.
Nicodemus, who at first came to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred Roman pounds.
So they took Jesus’ body, and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as the custom of the Jews is to bury.
Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden. In the garden was a new tomb in which no man had ever yet been laid.
Then because of the Jews’ Preparation Day (for the tomb was near at hand) they laid Jesus there.”
(John 19:38–42 WEB, excerpt)
The gospel writers show us:
Who Joseph is: a rich man, prominent council member, looking for the Kingdom
What he does: goes boldly to Pilate, asks for the body, offers his own new tomb
Who joins him: Nicodemus, once a nighttime visitor, now carrying an extravagant amount of spice
How they act: publicly, tenderly, defiling themselves ritually to honor Jesus in death
Two men who spent most of the story in the shadows step forward when it seems like the story is over.
3. The Scene: The Day Before Sabbath, the Hour Before Dark
It is late Friday afternoon—the Day of Preparation before the Sabbath.
The crowds are dispersing. The soldiers are cleaning up. The religious leaders are anxious to have the bodies off the crosses before sunset so that the land is not defiled on a holy day.
Normally, crucified bodies might be left to decay, thrown into a common grave, or handled with minimal respect. The spectacle was part of Rome’s warning: This is what happens to rebels. Their bodies mean nothing.
But this particular condemned man has friends.
The visible friends—the disciples who followed Him everywhere—have mostly vanished into fear. Peter is somewhere nursing his shame. Others are hiding behind locked doors.
In that gap, a different kind of follower steps forward.
Joseph of Arimathea, a man of means and reputation, has been “looking for the Kingdom of God.” He has watched Jesus with growing conviction. He disagreed with the council’s hatred. Luke tells us he did not consent to their plan and action. But until now, his faith has been safely tucked away inside his heart.
With the sun dropping lower and the Sabbath clock ticking, Joseph makes a decision that will change his life:
He will risk his position to honor a condemned man.
He goes to Pilate—the Roman governor who ordered the execution. This is not a small step. He is:
Aligning himself with someone Rome has just killed as a threat
Signaling disagreement with the religious leaders’ verdict
Asking for something that might easily be refused
Mark says he “boldly” went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Joseph has put himself into a place where he could lose everything important to him.
Courage doesn’t always show up early. Sometimes it shows up just in time.
4. The Hidden Heroes’ Moment: Night Disciples in Daylight
Pilate is surprised to hear that Jesus is already dead. Crucifixion can take days. He summons the centurion to confirm the report. Once it is verified, he grants Joseph permission to take the body.
Now Luke and John fill in the details:
Joseph takes the body down from the cross.
He wraps it in a clean linen cloth.
There is a garden near the place of crucifixion, with a new tomb cut into the rock. It belongs to Joseph. No one has ever been laid there. He offers his own tomb to Jesus.
This is no longer secret discipleship.
This is public association with a crucified criminal.
If anyone wondered where Joseph’s loyalties lay, they do not have to wonder now.
John adds another name to the scene:
“Nicodemus, who at first came to Jesus by night, also came…”
We remember Nicodemus from earlier in John’s gospel:
He came to Jesus by night with questions about being born again.
He later spoke up, cautiously, in the council: “Does our law judge a man before it hears from him?” (John 7:51) That did not go well for him.
Now, as the sun sets on the worst day in history, he steps into the open. He brings a lavish amount of burial spices—myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five Roman pounds. It is an extravagant act, fit for a king.
Together, Joseph and Nicodemus:
Lift a torn, lifeless body from the wood
Wipe away blood as best they can
Wrap Jesus in linen with spices, according to burial custom
Lay Him in Joseph’s own new tomb
Roll a stone in front of the entrance
They are handling more than a corpse. They are touching their own fears:
Fear of contamination before Passover
Fear of losing reputation and status
Fear that they have believed in vain
They have missed the chance to stand up for Him in life. They will not miss the chance to honor Him in death.
Hidden heroism here looks like coming out of hiding at the most dangerous, least “useful” moment—and offering what you have when all seems lost.
5. What This Moment Reveals About Jesus
Joseph’s and Nicodemus’s actions tell us something important about the One they bury.
a. Jesus Draws Seekers from the Very Heart of the System
Joseph is a council member. Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a “teacher of Israel.” They are insiders—men who belong to the very structures that conspired to kill Jesus.
Yet in their hearts, something else has been happening. Jesus’ words and works have unsettled them, attracted them, convinced and convicted them. They have been quietly seeking the Kingdom, and they have begun to suspect that it has come in this unlikely Galilean.
Jesus doesn’t only draw fishermen and tax collectors. He also plants seeds of faith in the hearts of lawmakers, scholars, and leaders who move slowly, cautiously, but genuinely toward Him.
b. Even in Death, Jesus Commands Costly Honor
Jesus’ body is lifeless. He is, from one perspective, beyond the reach of human kindness. And yet Joseph and Nicodemus treat His body with reverence and generosity:
A new tomb, not a lonely pit
Clean linen, not whatever scraps are at hand
A kingly amount of spices, not the bare minimum
They do not do this for a miracle. They do it because He is worthy, even if the story ends here.
The way they bury Him foreshadows who He really is: not a common criminal, but a King whose body will not see decay.
c. God Uses Their Faith to Set the Stage for Resurrection
They don’t know they are helping fulfill prophecy—Isaiah’s hint that the Servant would be with a rich man in his death. They don’t know that the new, unused tomb will become Exhibit A in the case for resurrection.
They are simply doing what they can with what they have.
God takes that and makes it part of the evidence that will one day convince many that the crucified Jesus has risen.
6. What Joseph (and Nicodemus) Teach Us
These two quiet men invite us to face some uncomfortable truths about discipleship.
a. Secret Faith Is Real—but It Isn’t Meant to Stay Secret
For a long time, Joseph is a disciple “secretly, for fear of the Jews” (John says it plainly). Nicodemus first comes “by night.” Their faith is genuine but hidden.
We might judge them for being timid and slow. But many of us know that tension from the inside:
Believing in Jesus inwardly
Staying quiet outwardly in certain circles
Worried about what family, colleagues, or friends will say
The gospel doesn’t dismiss their secret faith, but it clearly celebrates the moment when it moves into the open. Hidden heroes often begin privately. At some point, though, love compels them to step into the light.
b. Courage Can Be Late and Still Be Courage
It would have been better if Joseph had spoken up strongly in the council and if Nicodemus had defended Jesus more publically earlier. They cannot rewind that clock.
But instead of drowning in regret, they ask, “What can I do now?”
Now that He has been condemned
Now that He has died
Now that everyone is watching
Their answer is not perfect, but it is costly, and it is real.
Each of us likely has our own catalog of “too late” moments. Joseph and Nicodemus remind you: it is better to obey late than never. Grace can turn late courage into true courage.
c. Use What You Have for Jesus—Even When It Seems “Wasted”
Joseph has:
A relationship with Pilate
Social standing
A tomb on his own property
Nicodemus has:
Wealth
Access to costly spices
Legal and religious knowledge
They use those very things for Jesus:
Joseph uses his status and property.
Nicodemus uses his money and resources.
It would be easy to ask, “What’s the point? He’s already dead.” But the New Testament insists that offerings made to Jesus—even when they seem impractical or too late—are never wasted.
d. Touching Death for Love’s Sake Is Holy Work
By handling Jesus’ body so close to Sabbath and Passover, they risk ritual uncleanness. They are willing to accept that in order to show honor.
Many modern believers will face different kinds of “uncleanness”—emotional exhaustion, awkwardness, messy situations—when we choose to draw near to death and grief:
Sitting with the dying
Helping prepare a body
Walking families through funerals
Being present where loss is heavy
Joseph and Nicodemus quietly model that such proximity, for love’s sake, is not a failure of spirituality but an expression of it.
7. Bringing It Home: When You’re Ready to Step Out of the Shadows
Where do Joseph and Nicodemus meet us in our stories?
You may feel the sting and regret of delayed courage. There are conversations you should have had, stands you should have taken, support you wish you had offered sooner. You might look at certain past moments and think: I blew it. It’s too late now.
Their story suggests a different question:
“What can I do now, in the light of who Jesus is, even if I cannot rewrite yesterday?”
Maybe you’ve been a “secret disciple” in some context—a believer at work who never mentions your faith, a family member who stays silent when Christ is mocked, someone who keeps your love for Jesus carefully hidden in certain circles. For a season, perhaps that felt safer, even necessary.
But there may come a moment when staying hidden feels more like fear than wisdom. Something in you—like something in Joseph that afternoon—says, I can’t stay in the shadows forever. I need to step forward, even if it costs me.
Stepping forward may not look dramatic. It might mean:
Simply naming yourself as a follower of Jesus when asked
Offering your skills or resources to serve in ways that reveal your allegiance
Being willing to be seen publicly aligning with Christ and His people
You might also be holding resources—time, money, influence, property—and wondering if it’s “worth it” to spend them on acts of love that seem small or late. Joseph’s tomb and Nicodemus’s spices say:
“Yes. It is worth it. Jesus is worthy, even when you can’t see how your act will fit into the bigger story.”
And if you, like them, find yourself drawn toward places of death and grief—funeral homes, hospice work, hospital chapels—don’t assume that makes you less spiritual. You may be right where God wants you: close to the places where He intends to surprise people with resurrection.
Joseph and Nicodemus walked into that Friday thinking they were closing a chapter with dignity. They were, in fact, setting the bookmark at the very place God planned to turn the page.
8. Questions for Reflection and Conversation
In what areas of your life do you feel most like a “secret disciple”—believing in Jesus inwardly but reluctant to be known as His follower outwardly? What holds you back?
Can you think of a time when you acted later than you wish you had, but your “late” action still mattered? How does Joseph’s story encourage you in that?
What resources has God placed in your hands (time, money, skills, influence, space)? How might you “offer your tomb” or “bring your spices” in a tangible way right now?
How do you feel about being close to death, grief, or hard endings? Do you tend to avoid those spaces, or are you drawn to them? How might Joseph and Nicodemus’ example shape your response?
Read Mark 15:42–47, Luke 23:50–56, and John 19:38–42 together. What details stand out when you see all three accounts side by side? What do they stir in you?
9. Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You were taken down from the cross by two men who had loved You in secret and finally found the courage
to step into the light.
Thank You for Joseph and Nicodemus—
for their late, costly obedience,
for their willingness to risk reputation and ritual cleanness
to honor Your body in death.
I bring You my own hesitations and regrets,
the times I stayed silent when I should have spoken,
the moments I hid when I should have stood with You.
Show me what faithfulness looks like now.
Teach me how to use what I have—
my influence, my resources, my presence—
to honor You, even in places that feel like endings.
And when I am tempted to believe it is too late
for courage to matter,
remind me of a garden tomb,
a stone rolled in front of it,
and the quiet, hidden obedience
that You turned into the doorway of resurrection.
Give me grace to step out of the shadows
and into the light of Your love.
Amen.
Chapter 14: The Spice-Bearing Women at Dawn
First at the Tomb, First to Hear “He Is Risen”
1. Opening Story: Showing Up When It Feels Pointless
Some acts of love feel productive and noticeable. You can see the progress—the room is cleaner, the project moves forward, the person thanks you. But other acts of love feel like they don’t change anything at all. You sit at a bedside where the illness isn’t improving. You attend a meeting where the situation hasn’t progressed. You pray for the same need day after day with no visible result. If someone asked why you keep doing it, the best you could say might be, “Because I love them. I don’t know what else to do.”
That’s what the spice-bearing women are doing on the first day of the week. They are not walking toward a miracle. They’re walking toward a grave. They aren’t expecting an empty tomb; they’re expecting a sealed one. In their hands they carry burial spices—the final, tender task for someone they believe is still dead. Their faith isn’t triumphant; it’s simple, sorrowful, and stubborn. They are determined to honor Jesus even if the story is over.
They also know there’s a problem they can’t solve. On the way, they ask each other who will roll away the stone. They don’t have the strength, the status, or the strategy to move that barrier. Still, they keep going. Love moves their feet even when logic says this trip can’t accomplish much.
And it is these women—tired, grieving, and unsure—who walk straight into the surprise. The stone is already rolled away. The body they came to anoint is not there. Instead of guarding a corpse, angels are announcing good news. The errand that felt like a small, almost pointless act of devotion becomes the doorway into the greatest announcement in history: “He is not here, but is risen.” The hidden heroes of dawn are not the ones with a plan; they are the ones who showed up anyway.
2. Scripture Window: “Why Do You Seek the Living Among the Dead?”
“Now on the first day of the week, at early dawn,
they and some others came to the tomb, bringing the spices which they had prepared.
They found the stone rolled away from the tomb.
They entered in, and didn’t find the Lord Jesus’ body.
While they were greatly perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling clothing.
Becoming terrified, they bowed their faces down to the earth.
The men said to them,
‘Why do you seek the living among the dead?
He isn’t here, but is risen.
Remember what he told you when he was still in Galilee, saying that the Son of Man must be delivered up into the hands of sinful men,
and be crucified, and the third day rise again?’
They remembered his words,
returned from the tomb,
and told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest.
Now they were Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James,
and the other women with them…”
(Luke 24:1–10 WEB, portions)
Matthew, Mark, and John add details:
An earthquake and an angel rolling back the stone (Matthew 28).
A young man in a white robe telling them Jesus has risen and will meet the disciples in Galilee (Mark 16).
Mary Magdalene lingering in the garden and meeting the risen Jesus, whom she mistakes for the gardener (John 20).
But Luke captures the essence:
Spices prepared.
Stone rolled away.
Body missing.
Angelic message.
Remembering.
Running to tell.
3. The Scene: Spices, Sunrise, and a Heavy Question
It is early. Very early in the morning.
The Sabbath has ended.
On Friday:
They watched Joseph and Nicodemus wrap Jesus’ body and lay it in Joseph’s new tomb.
They noted the location and how He was laid.
They went home before the Sabbath began.
On Saturday:
They rested, as the commandment required.
But their hearts did not rest.
They prepared spices and ointments, doing what they could, waiting for first light.
Now, on Sunday:
The sky is still gray.
The city is quiet.
They carry spices in their hands and questions in their minds.
Mark tells us they’re asking a practical question: “Who will roll away the stone for us from the door of the tomb?” (Mark 16:3)
They are not planning a resurrection.
They are planning a work-around for a large rock.
They love Jesus.
They believe He is dead.
They are trying to honor Him anyway.
And that is when everything changes.
4. The Hidden Heroes’ Moment: Finding the Stone Moved and the Body Gone
When they arrive, the first surprise: “They found the stone rolled away.”
The problem they were planning to solve
has been solved from the other side.
They step inside.
Second surprise:
“They… didn’t find the Lord Jesus’ body.”
This is not yet good news.
It is alarming.
Grave robbery?
Authorities moving the body?
Some cruel insult added to injury?
Luke says they are “greatly perplexed.”
Of course they are.
Then, without warning:
“…two men stood by them in dazzling clothing.”
Tombs don’t usually contain:
Missing corpses and
Glowing messengers.
Terror replaces confusion.
They bow their faces to the ground.
The angels ask a question that reshapes the universe:
“Why do you seek the living among the dead?
He isn’t here, but is risen.
Remember what he told you…”
Three things happen in that sentence:
Their assumption is challenged.
They came to find a dead body.
The angels insist: You’re looking in the wrong category.
You’re searching for “the living” in the geography of death.
A fact is declared.
“He isn’t here, but is risen.”
Not: “His spirit lives on,” or “His teachings continue.”
A bodily resurrection is announced.
Their memory is activated.
“Remember what he told you…”
The angels quote Jesus’ own words about being delivered up, crucified, and rising on the third day.
It dawns on them: He did tell us this. We just didn’t imagine it literally.
Luke says:
“They remembered his words.”
Memory and message collide.
The pieces start to come together.
Grief doesn’t evaporate in an instant,
but it begins to reorganize around a new reality:
Our Teacher is not a dead hero.
He is a living Lord.
5. Theology in the Garden: Resurrection Announced to the Overlooked
There is a reason all four Gospels slow down here.
a. The First Witnesses Were Women—On Purpose
In that culture:
Women’s testimony was not given full weight in court.
They were not seen as primary legal witnesses.
If you were inventing a resurrection story in the first century,
you would not make women your star witnesses.
Yet God does.
He entrusts the first announcement of the resurrection to:
Mary Magdalene (named in all four Gospels),
Joanna,
Mary the mother of James,
“Other women with them.”
This is not a PR mistake.
It is a kingdom statement:
The kingdom of God does not run on the same assumptions as human systems.
Those the world sidelines, God centers.
Those whose voices are discounted in court
are trusted by heaven to carry the most important news.
The spice-bearing women become the apostles to the apostles—
sent ones to the sent ones.
b. Love Walking Toward Grief Walks Into Glory
They are not rewarded because they had the best theology.
They did not say:
“We know He will rise, so let’s go wait for the miracle.”
They are rewarded because:
They loved Jesus,
They stayed near,
They kept walking toward the last place they saw Him,
Even when it hurt.
Resurrection is not something they achieve by their faithfulness.
It’s a gift of God’s power.
But their faithfulness positions them to:
See the empty tomb,
Hear the angelic message,
Meet the risen Christ (especially Mary Magdalene in John’s account).
Love that walks toward the grave
finds that Jesus has already walked out of it.
c. The Question We All Must Face: “Why Seek the Living Among the Dead?”
The angels’ question slices through centuries:
“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”
We do that too.
We seek:
Life in systems that are spiritually dead,
Identity in relationships that cannot bear our weight,
Security in money and status that cannot survive death,
Worth in achievements that fade.
The resurrection story gently mocks our efforts to find living hope
in the cemeteries of our own making.
If Jesus is alive, we must:
Stop treating Him as a past teacher to be admired,
And start treating Him as a present Lord to be followed.
The women’s minds and hearts have to:
Shift from “Where did they take His body?”
To “Where is He leading us now?”
d. Remembering the Words of Jesus Is Key to Interpreting Our Shock
The angels anchor their announcement in Jesus’ own teaching:
“Remember what he told you…”
Resurrection is not an afterthought.
It is exactly what He promised.
In our own crises, we are often like these women:
Shocked by events,
Forgetful of words spoken earlier,
Needing someone (or the Spirit) to say, “Remember…”
They don’t understand the empty tomb
until they remember the spoken Word.
We will not understand our own “empty tombs”—
sudden losses, surprising turnarounds,
unexpected open doors—
unless we interpret them through the lens of what Jesus has said.
6. What the Spice-Bearing Women Teach Us
Their pre-dawn walk and stunned return carry several lessons.
a. Show Up, Even When You Don’t Feel “Full of Faith”
They did not walk to the tomb singing victory songs.
They walked with spices and sorrow.
Sometimes, the holiest thing you can do is:
Keep attending worship,
Keep opening the Scriptures,
Keep praying halting prayers,
Keep showing up for community,
even when you feel more grief than glory.
The miracle is not that they felt strong.
The miracle is that they went anyway.
b. God Often Solves Problems from the Other Side
They worried about the stone.
“Who will roll it away for us?”
By the time they arrive,
the stone has been moved.
How many times have we:
Worried obsessively about a barrier,
Only to find, when we reach it,
that God has already done something we never could have engineered?
This doesn’t mean every stone moves.
But it does mean:
Our job is not to pre-solve everything.
Our job is to walk in the direction of obedience and love
and trust that God is at work from the other side.
3. The First Task After Resurrection Is to Remember and Tell
Notice the sequence:
They remember His words.
They return from the tomb.
They tell all these things to the eleven and the rest.
Resurrection restructures their day:
The spices they brought to honor a corpse
are no longer needed.The mission shifts from tending the dead
to telling the living.
Hidden heroes often carry a double cargo:
The “spices” of practical love,
And the “news” of what God has done.
Both matter.
But on resurrection morning,
the news takes center stage.
4. Expect to Be Disbelieved—and Speak Anyway
Luke tells us:
“These words seemed to them as idle talk, and they didn’t believe them.” (Luke 24:11)
The apostles—the ones who should have been leading in faith—
dismiss the women’s report as nonsense.
The women are:
Right,
Obedient,
Full of fresh revelation—
…and not believed.
Sound familiar?
When you:
Share what God has done,
Speak of a hope others find unrealistic,
Bear witness to a change others can’t yet see,
you may be treated as:
Naïve,
Emotional,
Exaggerating.
The spice-bearing women remind us:
Being dismissed does not mean you’re wrong.
Rise early.
Go anyway.
Tell what you’ve seen.
7. Bringing It Home: Walking to Your Own “Tombs”
Where in your life are you doing what these women did—showing up in a place that feels finished, hopeless, or sealed? Maybe you keep checking in on someone who isn’t responding the way you’d hoped. Maybe you continue serving in a ministry, a job, or a relationship that doesn’t seem to be changing. Maybe you wake up and pray again for a situation that looks exactly like it did yesterday. From the outside, it might look like you’re just “bringing spices to a tomb.”
You may also have your own “stone”—a barrier that stands between you and what you sense God calling you toward. You can see the obstacle clearly: limited resources, a broken relationship, a painful memory, a lack of confidence. Like the women, you can list the reasons your journey doesn’t make sense. But their story invites you to ask a different question: What if God has already been working on the other side of the stone while I’ve been worrying about it?
There might be places where you’ve quietly decided, “This is just how it is now.” A marriage that will never heal, a child who will never return, a heart that will never soften, a community that will never wake up. Over those “settled” verdicts, listen again to the angel’s words: “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” That doesn’t mean every circumstance will be reversed, but it does mean Jesus refuses to be confined to the tomb you’ve assigned Him.
And when you do see glimpses of resurrection—a softened heart, a new beginning, a small door of opportunity opening—it can feel risky to tell others. What if they don’t believe you? What if they think you’re imagining things? The spice-bearing women show us what courage looks like: they remember what they heard, they return to the others, and they share what they’ve seen and been told. You don’t have to explain everything; you only need to be faithful with the story you’ve been given.
Hidden heroes are often people who simply keep walking toward love, even when it feels pointless, and discover along the way that God has already been there. Your quiet faithfulness—to pray, to serve, to show up—may be leading you closer than you realize to an already-rolled-away stone and an already-living Savior.
8. Questions for Reflection and Conversation
Read Luke 23:55–24:12 alongside Matthew 28:1–10 and Mark 16:1–8. What different angles on the women’s experience stand out to you?
In what ways do you identify with the women: preparing spices, worrying about the stone, being perplexed at first, trembling at the angelic message, or running to tell?
Is there an area in your life where you’ve resigned yourself to “death”—assuming nothing new can happen? How might Jesus be inviting you to revisit that tomb with Him?
Think of a time when a problem you dreaded turned out to have already been handled by God “from the other side.” How does that memory encourage you now?
Who in your life needs to hear a simple, honest version of your resurrection story—how Jesus met you in a place of death and brought some kind of new life?
9. Closing Prayer
Risen Jesus,
You let loyal women walk toward what they thought was the end of Your story and surprised them with the beginning of a new one.
Thank You for Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women who carried spices at dawn and came home carrying good news.
Teach me to show up even when I feel only grief.
Teach me to walk toward hard places trusting that You may already be at work.
Roll away the stones I cannot move.
Open my eyes to empty tombs and living hope.
And when I have seen even a glimpse of Your resurrection power, give me courage to remember, return, and tell.
You are not among the dead.
You are alive.
Let my life bear witness to that truth—in my quiet dawn walks and in the stories I share.
– Amen
Chapter 15: Mary Magdalene in the Garden
Mistaking the Risen Jesus for the Gardener and Hearing Her Name
1. Opening Story: When Grief Blinds You to What’s Right in Front of You
Have you ever lost something that was right in front of you the whole time? You pat your pockets for your keys and finally realize they were already in your hand. You walk from room to room looking for your phone while you’re talking on it. You ask everyone if they’ve seen your glasses, only to discover they’re sitting on top of your head. When the stakes are low, we can laugh about how blind we can be.
But sometimes the stakes are higher. Grief can do this to us. When your heart has been shattered, you become so certain you know how the story ends that nothing else seems possible. You stop looking for new beginnings. You assume anything unfamiliar is just background noise. You can stand in the middle of a new chapter and still swear you’re stuck on the last page.
Mary Magdalene understands this kind of blindness. She comes to the tomb at dawn with tear-swollen eyes and a script already written in her mind: Jesus is dead. She finds that His body is missing and someone has made a terrible situation worse. Even when angels speak to her, even when Jesus Himself stands right in front of her, she can only imagine Him as “the gardener,” a helpful stranger who might know where the corpse has gone. Her grief is so real that resurrection doesn’t even occur to her as an option.
And yet, this is exactly where the risen Christ meets her—not in her clarity, but in her confusion; not in her confidence, but in her weeping. One word—her name on His lips—breaks through the fog. The story of Mary in the garden is the story of how Jesus gently rewrites our scripts, not by scolding our blindness, but by calling us personally into a reality we couldn’t yet see.
2. Scripture Window: “Mary!”
“But Mary was standing outside at the tomb weeping.
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 lain.
They asked her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’
She said to them, ‘Because they have taken away my Lord,
and I don’t know where they have laid him.’
When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing,
and didn’t know that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?
Who are you looking for?’
She, supposing him to be the gardener, 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, ‘Rabboni!’ which is to say, ‘Teacher!’
Jesus said to her, ‘Don’t hold me, for I haven’t yet ascended to my Father;
but go to my brothers, and tell them,
“I am ascending to my Father and your Father,
to my God and your God.”’
Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord,
and that he had said these things to her.”
(John 20:11–18 WEB)
Tears.
Angels.
A mistaken identity.
A single spoken name.
An errand to the apostles.
Mary Magdalene is the first person in John’s Gospel to encounter the risen Jesus face to face.
And she is the first to preach, in simple form, “I have seen the Lord.”
3. The Scene: A Garden Full of Absence
It is still early on Sunday.
We’ve already seen:
The group of women come to the tomb,
The stone rolled away,
The angelic announcement,
Peter and “the other disciple” running to see,
The disciples returning home puzzled.
John zooms in on what Mary does after the others leave.
“But Mary was standing outside at the tomb weeping.”
She can’t leave.
Where others see enough confusion and go home, she stays.
Her world has already shattered on Friday.
Now even His body is missing.
It feels like grief stacked on grief:
First, they killed Him.
Now, they’ve taken Him.
She bends to look inside.
Two angels are sitting where the body had been:
One at the head,
One at the feet.
It’s like a living echo of the mercy seat on the ark of the covenant, where two cherubim faced each other over the place of atonement.
But Mary is not doing theology.
She is doing grief.
They ask,
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
She answers honestly:
“Because they have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they have laid him.”
She is not searching for “the body.”
She calls Him my Lord—even in death.
Then she turns and sees someone standing behind her.
She does not know it’s Jesus.
This is not because He is playing a trick.
It’s because:
Resurrection has changed Him in ways she doesn’t expect,
Her tears blur her vision,
Her mind is not ready for “alive” in a place of death.
Jesus asks the same question as the angels—and adds one more:
“Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?”
It is the who that matters.
She answers like someone still living in Friday:
“Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”
She is ready to carry His dead weight.
She is not ready for Him to carry her living hope.
4. The Hidden Hero’s Moment: Recognized by Her Name
Then comes the turning point of the entire scene:
“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’”
Not “Woman.”
Not “Friend.”
Her name.
The voice she has heard call her before:
Out of torment,
Into freedom,
Along dusty roads,
Into deeper trust.
There is something about the way He says it that cuts through the fog.
The same voice that once called Lazarus out of the tomb now calls Mary out of despair.
She turns (again)—this time, not just physically, but in recognition.
“She turned and said to him, ‘Rabboni!’”
“Rabboni” (my Teacher) is not a cool theological title.
It is an intimate, personal cry:
It’s You.
You’re really here.
Everything I thought I lost is still alive.
John doesn’t describe her actions, but Jesus’ next words hint at them:
“Don’t hold me…” (or “Don’t cling to me…”)
We can picture her:
Falling at His feet,
Grabbing hold of Him,
Holding on like someone who has lost Him once and refuses to let Him out of her grasp again.
Jesus is not rejecting her.
He is gently redirecting her:
“I haven’t yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brothers, and tell them…”
The shape of their relationship is changing:
From physically following and clinging,
To spiritually trusting and bearing witness.
Mary is not losing Him again.
She is being sent with Him in a new way.
She becomes:
The first human teller of the Ascension story in seed form:
“I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”
The first person to announce to the disciples,
“I have seen the Lord.”
In a garden where she thought she lost everything, she finds her calling.
5. Theology in the Garden: Resurrection, Recognition, and Relationship
Mary’s encounter is not just emotional; it is deeply theological.
a. The Risen Jesus Is Both Familiar and New
Mary sees Him and doesn’t recognize Him.
This tells us:
His resurrection body is continuous with His old body (the tomb is empty, the graveclothes empty),
But glorified in a way that is not immediately obvious.
The same is true for us:
Resurrection is not God scrapping the old and starting over.
It is God transforming what was into something higher, in ways that may be hard to recognize at first.
Mary’s journey—from not recognizing to recognizing—mirrors ours:
We often don’t see Jesus clearly in new seasons,
Until we hear Him speak into them.
b. Jesus Knows His Sheep by Name
He doesn’t say, “Hey, it’s Me.”
He says, “Mary.”
Back in John 10, He said:
“He calls his own sheep by name, and leads them out…
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
In the garden, the Good Shepherd lives His own metaphor:
He calls one of His sheep by name.
She hears His voice.
Recognition dawns, and she follows His new command: go and tell.
You are not just “disciple number 4,538.”
You are a name in His mouth.
Resurrection is not only a cosmic event; it is a personal encounter.
c. From Clinging to Commission
Mary wants to hold onto Jesus in the way she knew Him before.
Who can blame her?
But Jesus says:
“Don’t hold Me… go to my brothers…”
He is not saying, “Stop loving Me.”
He is saying, “Let our love take its next form.”
This is a pattern:
We meet Jesus in one way,
We grow attached to that form,
Resurrection and ascension shift the relationship:
From physical to spiritual,
From seeing to believing,
From clinging to obeying,
From receiving to being sent.
He is moving Mary from:
I have You again, to I have a message from You to carry.
The same happens with us:
We feel like our lives have stopped due to a tragedy and God gives us the strength to move on.
We move from living off spiritual feelings to living from His word and mission.
d. “My Father and Your Father, My God and Your God”
Jesus gives Mary a profound theological sentence to deliver:
“I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”
He is drawing her (and the disciples) into His own relationship with the Father.
He doesn’t say, “Our Father” here, because His sonship is unique.
But He does say, “My Father and your Father,” opening the door for them to share in that intimacy.
Resurrection is not just about:
Victory over death,
A ticket to heaven.
It is about adoption:
Being brought into the family of God through union with the risen Son.
Mary Magdalene becomes the courier of this astonishing upgrade in status.
6. What Mary Magdalene in the Garden Teaches Us
Her tears and her turning speak to all who live in Saturday spaces, stuck between crucifixion and resurrection.
a. Don’t Rush Away from Your Grief; Jesus Often Meets You There
Everyone else leaves the tomb.
Mary stays and weeps.
Her willingness to:
Stand in the place of loss,
Tell the truth about her pain,
Refuse to numb or distract herself,
positions her to be the first to see Jesus.
We often want to:
Get out of sad places as fast as possible,
Avoid the cemetery,
Stay busy.
Mary shows the holiness of staying long enough for Jesus to show up.
b. Grief Can Make You Misread Reality—and That’s Okay
Mary:
Talks to angels like they’re orderlies at a hospital.
Talks to Jesus like He’s the groundskeeper.
Offers to drag a corpse somewhere on her own.
She is not thinking clearly.
She is thinking honestly.
Jesus doesn’t scold her for not recognizing Him.
He simply says her name.
When you are in deep grief, you may:
Misinterpret what God is doing,
Miss His presence at first,
Say clumsy, even theologically off things.
He is not put off.
He knows how to make Himself clear in His time.
c. Hearing Your Name in His Mouth Changes Everything
Most of us can look back on moments when:
A verse,
A conversation,
A moment in prayer,
A line from a hymn or sermon,
suddenly went from generic to personal.
It felt like God said: You. Right now. I mean you.
Mary’s “Rabboni!” is the sound of someone realizing she has been personally addressed.
Ask yourself:
When have I “heard my name” with God?
How did it change the way I saw my situation?
Returning to those moments can help us recognize Him again when confusion thickens.
d. You Don’t Have to Understand Everything to Obey the Next Thing
Mary does not walk away from the garden with a complete Christology.
She doesn’t know:
How resurrection works,
What ascension will look like,
How the church will be born at Pentecost.
She knows:
“I have seen the Lord.”
“He gave me a message for you.”
So she goes and tells.
You may be waiting to:
Understand all the theological details,
Resolve every doubt,
Feel completely healed,
before you share anything.
Mary shows us: You can obey with tears still on your face and questions still in your mind.
7. Bringing It Home: Your Name, His Voice
Where does Mary’s garden encounter intersect your story? You may be standing by your own “tomb” in tears—some loss that feels final, a future you quietly buried, a version of yourself you’re convinced is gone for good. Like Mary, you might be doing the only thing you know to do: staying close to what you’ve lost, telling the truth about your pain, refusing to pretend it doesn’t hurt. In those places, Mary would lean close and say, “Stay honest. Stay present. The One who holds your future may be closer than you think.”
It’s also possible that, like Mary, you’ve “mistaken Jesus for the gardener” in some area of your life. You treat Him as background—part of the scenery but not the center. You assume He’s just there to keep things tidy while you handle the real problems. You overlook His presence because He doesn’t look like what you expected. This is a good moment to pray, “Lord, say my name again in this situation. Call me in a way I can recognize, even through my confusion.”
Maybe you find yourself longing for an old way God used to feel close: “When my prayers felt powerful… when Scripture felt alive… when worship felt electric.” You want to cling to a previous season the way Mary wanted to cling to the Jesus she knew before death and resurrection. Hear His gentle words to her as words to you: “Don’t hold Me that way. I’m not gone; I’m moving you forward.” He is not abandoning you; He is inviting you into a new form of trust, a new way of recognizing His presence and joining His work.
And is there a message you’ve been given to carry—a story of how Jesus met you, a word of comfort, a reminder that He is “my Father and your Father… my God and your God?” Don’t underestimate the power of your simple, honest, “I have seen the Lord,” spoken into someone else’s locked room of fear. Mary’s witness began with tears still on her face and questions still in her mind. Yours can, too. He knows your name. He is speaking. The question is not whether you understand everything, but whether you will listen, turn toward His voice, and share what you have seen.
8. Questions for Reflection and Conversation
Read John 20:1–18 slowly. What emotions do you feel as you move with Mary from darkness, to confusion, to recognition, to being sent?
When have you stayed in a painful place (emotionally or physically) longer than others—and how did God meet you there, if at all?
Can you recall a time when Scripture, prayer, or an event felt like God was “saying your name”? How did that shape your faith?
Are you in a season where Jesus feels unfamiliar—like someone you “ought” to recognize but don’t? What might it look like to wait and listen instead of forcing clarity?
9. Closing Prayer
Rabboni, Teacher, Gardener of new creation,
Thank You for meeting Mary in the place of her deepest grief.
Thank You for saying her name when she couldn’t see clearly.
Say my name again in the gardens of my own confusion.
Call me out of assumptions, out of despair, out of the belief that You are gone.
When I cling to what You used to look like in my life, gently loosen my grip and send me with a message of hope instead.
Let me hear You say, “My Father and your Father, My God and your God,” until I know deep in my bones that I am part of Your family.
And give me the courage, like Mary, to go to others and say, with my own tears and joy mixed together, “I have seen the Lord.”
– Amen
This work is freely shared. If it nourishes your life with God, you’re welcome to help sustain it.