Matthew 28:1-10

The tomb was dark, pitch black. With the stone rolled in front, there was no light shining in. It was the kind of darkness that makes your eyes stretch to try to capture some glimpse of light, but there is none. The tomb was dark. The tomb was stifling. With the stone rolled in front, there was no fresh air. The stale room was completely still, and the smell of death was strong. The tomb was suffocating, claustrophobic, dead.

But sometimes there are other places just as dark, just as suffocating, just as claustrophobic as a sealed tomb. When you’re in a marriage that has lost all affection, you can’t for the life of you remember why you decided it was a good idea to marry this person, and divorce is not an option, but death seems a long way off, then marriage is a tomb. When your body is slowly breaking down, and it seems like every month it’s something new. And your mind is still as young and strong as ever, but your body won’t cooperate, then your body begins to feel like a tight tomb. Or maybe it is your mind. You remember moments of clarity, times of sharp thinking, but something’s not quite right, lately. You seem to be forgetting more. You can’t think as clearly. There seems to be a cloud around your mind. And your thoughts grow dark and suffocating, like a tomb. Maybe your family is drifting apart. Maybe your job is suffocating. Maybe you wake up to sunshine, but your soul is as dark as the tomb. There is no future, nothing beyond the present. Of if there is a future, it’s a horizon of dark, threatening clouds. The grief is too deep. The fears are many. Life is becoming unbearably heavy, so dark, so airless that you feel like you can’t breathe.

Today is the day we see the light. Today is the day we breathe the breath of fresh air. Today is the day that the tomb cracks and life begins to invade every dark part of our lives, because today, we take a new hold on this amazing truth, that Someone that used to be dead, isn’t dead anymore. He was dead in the darkness, He is now alive in the light.

And He invites us to join, to come out of the darkness into the light. He offers to make every dark, suffocating part of our life free and filled with light. He comes to people trapped in darkness, and offers us the way out.

This is where the two Mary’s were, in verse 1.

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

They didn’t know this was Easter Sunday, at least not yet. This was just another Sunday, the beginning of another week. And this week was starting off just awful. They had lost their dearest friend. But more than that, they had put their hope in this Man. Jesus was supposed to be the answer to their problems. He was supposed to put their lives back right, make things the way they’re supposed to be. And now He’s dead. And He’s been dead for three days. And He’s not coming back. And nothing can make things better. And all the broken parts of their lives are going to stay broke, and evil will win and grief will never go away and life will stay dark and suffocating.

And into the darkness and despair, verse 2:

There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow.

And there are two reactions to the light and noise of the resurrection. For the guards, who have been watching the tomb, the guards who want to make sure that Jesus stays dead, well, verse 4:

The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

This is what happens to the enemies of Jesus when Jesus returns from the dead. The enemies fall down, dead. Sometimes it takes a while. Enemies die hard. But they die, no doubt about it.

But for the friends of Jesus, for Mary and Mary, there is first a word of assurance and comfort. Verse 5:

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.

When Jesus rose, the guards were so afraid that they shook and fell down like they were dead. The women had a reaction that was similar and yet different. Their reaction was one of fear, but mixed with joy. Verse 8:

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Fear, and joy. Frightened, and yet joyful. What a strange mixture of emotions this is. Can you imagine being afraid and joyful at the same time? I think that that half of us can imagine this better than the other half, because fear and joy are the primary emotions when a woman gives birth. There is fear of the pain, the agony of birth. But mixed with the fear and the pain is the joy of new life. Fear describes the tomb, the place of death. Fear and joy describe the womb, the place of life.

And with the resurrection of Jesus, the tomb becomes the womb. The place of death becomes the place of life. Everything that is dead or rotten or suffocating or dark now becomes alive and healthy and free and light. Which is why, verse 9:

Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him.

On Friday, Jesus’ body was broken and bloody and dead. On Sunday, Jesus body was whole and healthy and alive. On Friday, Jesus was placed in a dark and empty and airless tomb. On Sunday, Jesus broke the power of the tomb, and light and air burst in to bring life.

And right now, right here, today and tomorrow, Jesus is doing the same thing for you and me. He’s taking the darkness and tightness and airless parts of our lives, and He’s making them light and free and alive. That empty tomb has become the womb in which every part of our life is remade, reborn, born again.

Now, maybe our reaction to this is mixed. Maybe there is joy and hope, mixed with a little fear. After all, we’ve been living with this darkness for so long, it’s a normal part of life. And to lose the darkness, as much as we hate it, is a little frightening. We’ve been hanging on to the resentment for so long, we can’t imagine forgiving. And we’re a little scared. We’ve gotten used to the distance and tension in the marriage, and it’s a little scary to think about being close and intimate. Humility seems riskier than pride. Contentment seems emptier, less satisfying than the drive to get more and fill our lives. We’re afraid that if we stop grieving, we’ll forget our loved one. We’re afraid of the new life, and sometimes we want to stay where we are. We don’t want to move from the dark, suffocating tomb, because the bright, open, holy life seems to new and strange.

And then Jesus comes, and the fear is gone, and the joy sweeps over us. And we grab on to Him and we worship Him. And His resurrection begins to invade our dark places, and we begin to come back to life, right along with Jesus.

Last Friday, Good Friday, we joined Jesus on the cross. We died to ourselves, with Him. Our dark, nasty, fear-filled, heavy lives were crucified along with Him. And this morning, we begin to rise. We saw this in the sacrament of baptism this morning. Olivia, in a sense, was buried. Baptism is a drowning. She was buried into Jesus, so that she could rise again. There will come a time, we trust, when Olivia will be born again. God will work in her so that, at some time, she will respond to the effect of the resurrection in her life. She will accept that God has raised her to life along with Jesus.

But that’s not just a one time thing. Being born again happens constantly, for Olivia, and for each of us. Every day, parts of our lives are being freed from the tomb and born again from the womb. constantly.

I don’t know what part of you needs to die and rise again. I don’t know what darkness is crushing you, what sin is suffocating you. Maybe it’s a worry that needs to be finally, completely left behind. Maybe hope has been crushed. There’s not even the hope of hope. Despair is dark, it’s taken the air out of your life. But Jesus rose from the dead, He broke out of the tomb, to give you hope, guaranteed hope, freedom from fear.

Maybe you’ve been hurt. There’s a wound that goes too deep. The grief is too overwhelming, the sorrow is so constant. You miss your husband, your wife, your mom or dad, your child so deeply. The miscarriage killed a part of you when your baby died. But Jesus rose from the dead, so that death doesn’t get the last word. Jesus rose from the dead to turn your tears into joy, satisfying, comforting joy. The tomb is not the end. The tomb becomes the womb, bringing hope and relief and comfort.

And life. For those who have grabbed on to Jesus as their Savior and Lord, for those who have died with Him and look to Him for their rebirth, this life of sorrow and suffocation is turned into a life of strength and assurance. We are born again to live pure lives, holy lives, Godly lives. Every day a part of us will be reborn until we are completely born again, to eternal lif. Lives reborn from the womb, not trapped in a tomb.

Every day, the resurrection of Jesus will have an effect, if we grab onto Jesus and let Him. We will see more light, we will experience more freedom if we live more in the resurrection. We won’t sin as much as we used to, and instead we’ll serve Him more. Surround yourself with the resurrection. Write it down, if you need to. Jesus rose, so you will too. Set time aside every day to remember that Jesus arose to new life, raising your life, too. Find a friend who will remind you, whom you can remind, that Jesus rose, so your hopes and holiness will rise, too.

There is light just waiting to break into the darkness, if you will grab on to Jesus. There is air just waiting to burst into an airless, tight life, if you will just grab on to Jesus. He rose in order to raise you up, breaking out of the tomb into a bright, reborn life.